"Georgie 


*•-;  : 


Drusilla 


G 


eorgie 


By 


Dorothea  Deakin 


New  York 

The  Century  Co. 

1906 


Copyright,  1906,  by 
THE  CENTURY  Co. 


Copyright,  1906,  by 
The  Curtis  Publishing  Company 


Published  October,  1906 


THE  DEVINNE  PRESS 


TO 

MY  THREE  BROTHERS 

GEORGE,  DICK  AND  BARTY 

WITH  A  GOOD  DEAL  OF  LOVE 
AND   SOME  ADMIRATION 


2135158 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


i  PLAIN  ANNE i 

ii  THE  GODDESS  GIRL 35 

in  THE  HUMORIST 77 

iv  THE  INTERNATIONAL 115 

v  THE  SCARLET  RUNNER 159 

vi  THE  GLADIATORS 191 

vii  PETERKIN 223 

viii  WHEN  THE   GIRLS  CAME  OUT  TO 

PLAY 251 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Drusilla Frontispiece 

PAGE 

Georgie 25 

"  '  I  hate  a  woman  to  be  false  '  " 73 

"  Miss  Fitzgerald  sang  to  us  " 101 

"Diana  took  poor,  frightened  Taffy  into  her 

arms " 147 

"•  You  never  saw  such  a  mess  "' 219 

" *  I    liked   you   better  before  you  grew  wise, 
Georgie  '" 


I 
"Plain  Anne" 


"Plain  Anne 


55 


RUSILLA  spread  her  arms  on 
the  wide  stone  coping  of  the 
crumbling  wall,  to  hide  her 
face,  and  the  utter  despair  of 
her  attitude  chilled  me.  The  orchard  was 
cool  and  green  and  beautiful.  The  thrushes 
and  linnets  and  blackbirds  held  their  deaf- 
ening spring  carnival  in  the  red  thorn  and 
the  sycamore.  Drusilla  wore  a  linen  gown 
as  blue  as  her  eyes,  or  the  sky  between 
the  boughs  of  the  Morella  cherry  shadow- 
ing our  quiet  corner,  but  for  me  the  sun 
had  gone  in.  With  my  clouded  hopes  the 
brightness  of  the  day,  too,  had  clouded 
over. 

"  What  does  it  all  mean?"  I  asked  sternly. 
"  I  can't  believe  that  you  have  merely  been 
amusing  yourself." 
Her  face  was  hidden. 


"Georgie" 

"  It  is  not  very — amusing,  is  it  ?  I  am 
so  sorry — so  very  sorry — if  I  had  only 
known —  " 

"  Don't  lie,"  said  I  harshly  and  rudely, 
"  You  did  know." 

She  rose  indignantly. 

"I  did  not  know.  And  if  I  guessed,  I 
couldn't  do  anything.  I  couldn't  be  rude 
to  you,  could  I,  because  you — you  liked 
me  too  much  ?  " 

"  I  wish  to  heaven  you  had,"  cried  I. 
"  It  would  have  been  kinder  than  this." 

"  I  think  perhaps  I  had  better  go  in,"  said 
she,  in  a  low  voice.  "  You  are  very  cruel. 
I— I — couldn't—  "  she  caught  her  breath 
with  a  sob. 

"  You  couldn't  what  ?  " 

"  I  couldn't  help  its  being — too  late." 

"  Too  late  ? "  I  turned  abruptly.  "  You 
are  not —  " 

«  Ah,"  said  she  sadly,  "  that 's  just  it.  I 
am.  But  it  is  a  secret.  You  must  never, 
never  tell  anyone.  No  one  knows  but 
Anne." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?     For  God's  sake 

4 


"Plain  Anne" 

tell  me  the  truth.  You  owe  me  that  at 
least." 

"  I  am  engaged  to  Georgie !  " 

I  stared  at  her,  amazed.  Then  I  opened 
my  mouth  to  speak — remembered  in  time, 
a  rash  promise,  and  shut  it  again.  She 
was  crying  openly. 

"  To  Georgie  ? "  I  said  at  last,  in  a  low 
voice.  "Georgie?  Good  Lord !  For  how 
long?" 

"  For  six  months.  Only  we  don't  want 
it  known  till  he  comes  of  age.  He  thinks 
it  better  not,  and  so  does  Anne." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  of  his  mother,  Anne  says. 
She  says  you  never  know  how  people  will 
take  things,  and  Georgie  will  be  twenty- 
one  in  August.  Georgie  thinks  a  secret 
engagement  is  more  exciting  and  romantic. 
He  says  all  the  gilt  is  off  the  ginger-bread 
directly  the  thing  is  made  official.  It  is  a 
little  too  exciting  for  me.  I  almost  think 
sometimes  that  I  should  prefer  my  ginger- 
bread plain." 

"  I  should  think  so,"  said  I  sternly.     "  I 

5 


"Georgie" 

suppose,  confound  him,  that  you  are  fond 
of  him?" 

Her  cheeks  flamed. 

"  Am  I  the  sort  of  girl  to  promise  to 
marry  a  man  I  don't  love  ? "  she  cried 
quickly. 

"  No,"  said  I  sadly,  "  I  don't  think  you 
are.  He  is  a  lucky  beggar.  Georgie 
always  was  the  darling  of  the  gods." 

"  He  is  the  dearest  boy  in  the  world," 
said  Drusilla,  with  an  inexplicable  sob  as 
I  left  her,  and  I  had  to  listen  to  that,  still 
holding  my  tongue ;  still  keeping  back 
what  I  knew. 

But  after  dinner  that  night  I  went  to 
look  for  the  young  hound,  and  found 
him  oiling  his  bat  with  a  light  heart.  He 
greeted  me  with  a  hearty  shout,  and  I 
noticed  the  breadth  of  his  shoulders,  and 
measured  his  six  feet  with  a  disgusted 
eye. 

"  A    straight    nose ;    an    arm   like   the 

stump  of  a  tree,"  I  told  myself,   "  and  the 

best    bat    in    the    town.     I    might    have 

guessed.     What   more    can    a  girl    want 

6 


"Plain   Anne" 

than  she  finds  in  Georgie.  Curse  every- 
thing ! " 

"  Come  in,"  cried  Georgie  happily. 
"I'm  getting  my  bat  ready  for  the  match 
to-morrow,  and  the  weather's  a  dream. 
I  'm  nearly  off  my  head  with  joy.  It 's  a 
ripping  world." 

"  I  'm  glad  you  find  it  so,"  said  I  shortly. 
"I  don't  agree  with  you,  and  I  should  like 
to  have  a  few  words  with  you  when 
you  've  finished  with  that  beastly  bat." 

He  looked  up  with  a  good-tempered 
surprise. 

"  Hallo  !  "  he  said,  "  something  's  put 
you  out.  What 's  wrong,  old  chap  ?  " 

"  Come  into  the  garden,"  said  I  curtly, 
"and  I  '11  tell  you  what's  wrong.  " 

In  the  privacy  of  his  mother's  rose  gar- 
den I  turned  and  faced  him  indignantly. 

"  Look  here,  you  blithering  young 
idiot,"  said  I  without  preface,  "what  the 
devil  do  you  mean  by  it  ?  " 

"  Mean  by  what?  "  in  amazement. 

"  How  many  girls  do  you  happen  to  be 
engaged  to  at  the  present  moment  ? " 

7 


"Georgie" 

His  face  crimsoned  under  the  tan. 

-What  the" 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  I  am  interested  to 
know." 

"  You  are,  are  you  ?  Then  you  can 
jolly  well " 

"Two  months  ago,"  I  went  on  firmly, 
"  you  confided  your  love  affairs  to  me  in 
your  open  and  engaging  way,  and  in  the 
simplicity  of  my  heart  I  listened  and  sym- 
pathized. Her  name,  you  said,  was 
Violet,  and  you  have  talked  about  her 
morning,  noon  and  night,  every  time 
we've  been  alone  since  you  first  men- 
tioned her  name.  You  told  me  that  she 
lived  in  Staffordshire,  and  wrote  to  you 
three  times  a  week." 

Georgie  smiled. 

"  So  she  does,"  he  said.  "  It 's  all  quite 
true.  She  is  the  prettiest  little  girl  in  the 
world.  I  would  n't  have  spoken  about 
her  to  anyone  but  you,  and  I  can't  tell 
you  what  a  comfort  it 's  been  to  me  to  have 
someone  sympathetic  to  rave  to.  I  'm 
afraid  I  've  bored  you  dreadfully,  old  chap." 
8 


"Plain    Anne" 

"  You  have, "  said  I,  with  unflattering 
truth,  "  but  that  's  not  the  point.  What 
about  Drusilla  ? " 

"  Drusilla  !  "  He  was  evidently  thunder- 
struck. 

"  Yes,"  said  I.  "  You  can't  lie  artistic- 
ally, Georgie.  It  isn't  in  you.  And  you 
may  as  well  be  frank  with  me,  because  you 
see  it 's  hardly  an  hour  since  Drusilla  her- 
self told  me  all  about  it." 

Georgie  began  to  look  uneasy. 

"  What  the  deuce Drusilla  told  you  ? 

Why  on  earth  should  she  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Never  mind  why  she  told  me,"  I  said 
bitterly ;  "I  will  leave  the  details  to  her. 
You  will  enjoy  them  together  no  doubt. 
But  you  can  understand  that  the  news  was 
rather  a  shock  to  me — knowing  what  I 
know  of  Violet." 

He  groaned. 

"Don't  speak  of  it,"  said  he;  "it's 
awful.  The  worry  of  it  is  wearing  me  into 
my  grave." 

I  regarded  his  sunburnt,  open  face,  his 
cloudless,  candid  eyes,  his  frank,  con- 
9 


"Georgie" 

fiding  air ;  then  smiled  in  spite  of  my 
disgust. 

"You  needn't  smile,"  cried  he,  "I  lie 
awake  thinking  about  the  awfulness  of 
everything,  night  after  night,  and  I'm  losing 
my  appetite  steadily,  day  by  day.  I  hardly 
ever  enjoy  my  meals  now." 

We. had  dined  together  the  night  before. 
I  smiled  again. 

"If  you  only  knew,"  said  he,  "what  I 
feel,  you  would  be  sorry  for  a  chap. 
You  'd  sympathize  instead  of  standing 
there  smiling  in  that  beastly  supercilious 
way." 

"  How  on  earth  did  you  get  into  such  a 
disgraceful  position  ? "  I  asked  in  a  more 
kindly  tone.  He  was  very  young,  and  I 
was  fond  of  him.  Most  people  were,  curi- 
ously enough.  "  You  had  better  tell  me 
all  about  it.  Perhaps  I  might  help  you." 

As  his  high  spirits  declined,  my  low 
ones,  for  some  inexplicable  reason,  rose. 

With  obvious  agitation,  he  pushed  a  big 
oily  hand  through  his  light  hair. 

"  I  hardly  know,"  said  he.  "  I  've  been 
10 


"Plain  Anne" 

sweet  on  Violet  ever  since  I  was  at  school, 
and  spent  my  holidays  with  her  people. 
She 's  so  pretty,  you  know.  As  pretty  as 
paint,  with  fluffy  hair,  all  golden  and — oh, 
you  should  see  it  in  the  sun.  It 's  a  fair 
treat.  And  then  her  eyes,  and  her  little 
hands,  and  her  complexion !  Talk  about 
rose  leaves ! " 

"  I  don't,"  said  I  shortly.  "  Suppose 
you  cut  Violet's  charms  and  get  to  the 
horses !  " 

"Well,"  said  he  sadly,  "you've  never 
been  in  love,  or  you  'd  feel  for  a  chap — and 
I  suppose  I  have  told  you  about  Violet 
pretty  often." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  you  have — -too  often. 
What  about  Drusilla  ? " 

He  groaned  again. 

"Oh,"  said  he,  "  it  'sawful.  She  's  charm- 
ing too.  A  perfect  peach — a  regular  little 
kitten  c  f  a  girl.  I  can't  tell  you  how  fond 
I  am  of  her.  She  's  such  good  fun  and  so 
plucky — and — " 

"That'll  do,"  said  I  hastily.  "  There  's 
no  reason  why  you  should  n't  admire  her. 
ii 


"Georgie" 

Everyone    does.     But   why    did  you  get 
engaged  to  her?     That's  the  point." 

Georgie  rumpled  his  hair  again. 

"  I  can't  think,"  said  he,  perplexedly. 
"  These  things  happen  before  you  know 
where  you  are.  There  was  a  dance,  you 
know,  and  a  champagne  supper,  and 
places  for  sitting  out  on  the  stairs,  and 
landings.  She  wore  a  rose-colored  frock 
and  her  cheeks  were  rose-color  too. 
They  're  generally  so  pale,  are  n't  they  ? 
and  you  know  how  it  is  when  you  want 
to  kiss  a  girl  awfully,  and  feel  all  at  once 
that  you  simply  loathe  the  idea  of  her 
belonging  to  any  one  else." 

"  Yes,"  said  I  grimly.     I  did  know. 
"  Well,  that 's    how    it   was  with  me." 
He  finished  with  an  engaging  simplicity 
which  inspired  me  with  an  ardent  desire 
to  punch  his  head. 

"Oh,"  said  I,  "that  was  it,  was  it? 
And  Violet?  " 

"Ah,"  Georgie  sighed,  "you  don't 
know  how  I  love  that  girl  and  yet — for 
the  moment  I  seemed  to  have  quite  for- 

12 


"Plain  Anne" 

gotten  Violet.  It  is  a  bit  of  a  mess,  is  n't 
it?" 

"  Yes."  My  hopes  were  growing.  "  I 
can  only  think  of  one  thing  to  be  done 
now." 

"You  're  deuced  clever,  "said  hegloomily, 
"  if  you  can  think  of  anything.  I  've  tried 
hard  enough." 

"  You  will  have  to  tell  one  of  them  the 
truth,"  I  announced  with  stern  decision. 

Georgie  flung  down  his  newly  oiled  bat 
and  plunged  his  hands  into  his  pockets. 

"  I  'm  damned  if  I  '11  do  that,"  said  he 
stubbornly. 

I  went  on  unflinchingly. 

"  You  '11  find  yourself  in  precious  hot 
water  if  you  don't.  There  's  nothing  else 
for  it.  It  is  cruel  of  you  to  treat  them 
like  this,  and  you  are  behaving  disgrace- 
fully to  both  of  them.  Write  to  Violet 
and  tell  her  that  you  were  mistaken  in 
your  feelings,  and  too  young  to  know 
your  own  mind.  You  had  mistaken 
friendship  for  love,  you  might  say.  You 
know  the  sort  of  thing  ?  " 

13 


"Georgie" 

In  suggesting  this  I  felt  that  a  diplo- 
matist of  the  first  water  had  been  lost  to 
the  courts  of  Europe. 

Georgie  set  his  teeth  as  I  had  ex- 
pected. 

"  I  'm  hanged  if  I  will,"  said  he.  "  I  'd 
rather  lose  the  other  one.  I  'm  not  going 
to  behave  like  a  cad  to  Violet.  It'd 
break  her  heart.  You  don't  know  what  a 
lot  that  girl  thinks  of  me." 

"  Perhaps,  "I  suggested  mildly,  "she,  too, 
may  have  changed  her  mind.  She  may 
welcome  the  idea  of  a — release." 

Georgie's  face  grew  crimson. 

"On  the  contrary,"  said  he,  "she's 
absolutely  wrapped  up  in  me.  And  I  Ve 
not  changed  my  mind.  I  love  her  every  bit 
as  much  as  I  did  when  I  proposed  to  her." 

"  Be  a  man,"  said  I  softly,  "and  get  it 
over.  Break  it  off." 

"Thank  you,"  said  he  loftily,  "  I  prefer 
to  behave  like  a  gentleman  and  keep 
it  on." 

"With  both  of  them?"  I  suggested 
mildly. 

H 


"Plain  Anne" 

He  collapsed. 

"  Oh,  Lord !  You  might  help  a  chap, 
Martin,  instead  of  jeering.  I  can't  give 
Violet  up.  I  can't." 

"  Then  tell  the  truth  to  Drusilla  instead. 
Explain  about  the  rose-colored  dance,  and 
the  rest  of  it." 

Georgie  flushed  again.  His  skin,  where 
the  sun  had  not  caught  it,  was  as  fair  as  a 
lily. 

"  I  'd  rather  cut  my  throat,"  said  he. 
"  You  don't  know  what  it  would  mean  to 
me  to  lose  her.  You  don't  know  what 
that  girl  is  to  me." 

I  knew  what  she  was  to  me  and  held 
my  tongue ;  still  diplomatic. 

"She's  the  sweetest  little  thing  on 
God's  earth,"  said  he,  with  flowery  pathos, 
"and  miles  too  good  for  me." 

"  Yes,  I  think  she  is.  Does  she  ? — is  she 
fond  of  you,  do  you  suppose  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Lord,  yes,"  Georgie  answered 
readily.  "  Anne  says  she  worships  the 
very  ground  I  walk  on.  Keeps  my  photo- 
graph in  her  Tennyson  and  that  sort  of 

15 


"Georgie" 

thing.  Presses  the  flowers  I  give  her — 
don't  you  know,  and  looks  at  'em  every 
day." 

"  Oh,  then  Anne  knows  all  about  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  's  known  from  the  begin- 
ning. I  Ve  always  told  her  things  all  my 
life,  she's  so  sympathetic.  You  find  your- 
self telling  her  things  before  you  know 
where  you  are,  and  she  '11  listen  for  hours 
without  getting  bored.  She 's  been  fright- 
fully interested  in  Violet  ever  since  I  can 
remember." 

"Violet?  Georgie,  you  don't  mean 
to  say  that  you  told  Anne  about  Violet  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did.  From  the  beginning.  She 's 
a  plain  little  thing,  but  chock  full  of  sym- 
pathy and  goodness.  I  never  knew  a 
kinder  heart  than  Anne's." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  I  slowly,  "  that  she 
has  n't  told  Drusilla  the  truth.  One  would 
think  her  only  sister — " 

"  Anne   never  breaks  a  promise,"  cried 

he  hastily.     "But   she 's  awfully  sorry  for 

her  sister,  of  course.     Even  before  that — 

that  dance  she  told  me  how  Drusilla  cried 

16 


"Plain  Anne" 

herself  to  sleep  when  I  forgot  to  go  and 
see  them  for  a  few  days.  I  thought  of  that 
at  the  dance  before  I  spoke." 

"  Oh,"  said  I  thoughtfully,  ''you  did, 
did  you  ?  " 

"Yes.  It's  a  terrible  hole  to  be  in 
when  you  come  to  think  it  over." 

I  acknowledged  to  myself  that  he  was 
right,  and  though  the  situation  would  have 
seemed  almost  laughable  in  its  absurdity 
to  an  onlooker,  for  me  it  was  almost  a 
tragedy. 

I  thought  of  Drusilla  with  her  dark  hair 
and  merry  eyes ;  her  round,  dimpled  face 
and  sweet,  alluring  voice,  and  under  my 
breath  I  cursed  Georgie's  soft  heart ;  also 
his  broad  shoulders  and  Greek  profile.  So 
she  cried  when  he  neglected  her !  I  felt 
suddenly  that  the  moment  for  diplomacy 
on  my  own  account  was  past.  At  all  costs 
Drusilla  must  be  happy.  If  she  wanted 
Georgie,  Georgie  she  must  have.  I  had 
never  had  much  real  happiness  in  my  life, 
and  there  was  no  reason  why  I  should  ex- 
pect it  now.  Drusilla,  young  and  kind  and 


"Georgie" 

merry,  had  a  right  to  it.  At  her  age  it 
was  only  what  was  due.  I  did  n't  know 
Violet,  and  the  thought  of  her  broken 
heart  gave  me  no  pangs  at  all.  The  golden 
hair  and  rose-leaf  complexion  would  pro- 
cure her  other  happiness  no  doubt. 

"  Georgie,"  said  I  gently,  "it  is  much 
easier  to  write  a  letter  than  to  say  hard 
things  in  person.  Write  to  Violet  to- 
night." 

"  I'd  rather  blow  my  brains  out,"  cried  he. 

"  She  will  be  very  unhappy  at  first,"  I 
went  on,  "  but  she  will  get  over  it  in  time. 
One  always  does.  And  it  will  be  much 
easier  for  you  afterwards,  because  she 
does  n't  live  next  door,  as  Drusilla  does,  and 
you  won't  run  across  each  other's  path 
twenty  times  a  day." 

"  Yes,"  said  Georgie,  "  that's  what  Anne 
says;  but  it  doesn't  seem  to  make  things 
much  easier  for  me.  I'm  such  a  soft- 
hearted beggar,  you  see." 

I  groaned.  "  I  am  not  interested  in 
Anne's  opinions,"  said  I  briefly,  for  I  had 
no  particular  liking  for  Drusilla's  sister. 
18 


"Plain  Anne" 

She  fully  realized  the  value  of  Georgie's 
inheritance,  I  felt  sure. 

"She's  a  wonderful  head.  It's  a  pity 
she  's  such  a  plain  little  thing.  There  's  no 
doubt  about  it,  women  ought  all  to  be 
pretty." 

"  That  you  might  propose  to  a  few  more 
of  them  ? "  I  asked.  "  Does  n't  Anne  ever 
tell  you  how  shocking  your  behavior  is  ?  " 

"No,"  said  he  indignantly,  "she's  a 
sensible  girl.  You  don't  catch  Anne  say- 
ing snappy  things  to  a  fellow.  She  just 
listens  and  sympathizes,  and  every  now 
and  then  she  advises  me  to  write  and 
break  it  to  poor  little  Vi.  But  I  shall 
never  have  the  heart  to.  Her  life's  hap- 
piness is  bound  up  in  me.  Besides,  I 
could  n't  bear  to  part  with  her." 

"You'll  have  to  part  with  one  of  'em. 
What  about  Drusilla's  life's  happiness  ? " 

"  It 's  that  that's  worrying  me,"  said  he 
sadly. 

In  despair  I  rose  to  go. 

"Well,"  said  I,  "I  leave  you  to  it.  I 
hope  you  '11  enjoy  your  match  to-morrow." 

19 


«  Georgie  " 

His  dejected  air  vanished,  and  his  hand- 
some, boyish  face  lit  up.  Georgie  is  al- 
ways charming  when  he  is  happy. 

"  You  didn't  bring  a  late  edition  of  to- 
day's 'News'  said  he;  "  Maclaren's 
latest  was  ninety-four  not  out,  and — " 

I  escaped. 

Back  in  my  lonely  rooms  I  flung  myself 
into  a  chair,  and  in  unvarnished  terms  told 
my  drab  wall  paper  what  I  thought  of  the 
universe  in  general,  and  Georgie  in  par- 
ticular. I  wished  with  all  my  heart  that  I 
was  not  so  absurdly  fond  of  the  young 
fool;  that  I  had  not  promised  to  keep 
silent  about  his  secret  engagement  to 
Violet ;  that  I  had  had  his  broad  shoul- 
ders and  good  looks  to  help  me  in  my  own 
wooing ;  and  last  of  all,  even,  that  I  had 
never  met  Drusilla,  to  disturb  my  peace 
of  mind  in  this  unpleasant  way. 

I  determined  to  keep  out  of  her  way. 
It  was  the  only  thing  left  to  me. 

"  Every    time    I    see   her,"  said    I    to 
myself,   "  I     have     the     whole    unhappy 
struggle  over  again.     I  will  try  to  forget 
20 


"Plain  Anne" 

her."  And  so  on,  for  three  weeks.  Then 
one  evening  Georgie  dropped  in. 

"  I  can 't  bear  it,"  he  said ;  "  it 's  wearing 
me  to  a  shadow." 

"What's  the  matter  now?"  I  asked 
with  scant  sympathy,  for  I  had  never  seen 
a  larger  or  more  aggressively  healthy 
youth. 

"  Drusilla.  She 's  fretting  about  some- 
thing. Anne  says  it 's  the  secrecy.  She 's 
a  kind-hearted  girl." 

"Who— Drusilla?" 

"  No — Anne.  She  wants  me  to  have 
our  engagement  made  public  on  my  birth- 
day in  August." 

"She is  quite  right, "said  I  gravely,  but 
the  thought  of  Drusilla  in  tears  was  a 
knife  in  my  heart. 

"  If  you  think,"  said  Georgie  hotly, 
"that  I'm  going  to  ruin  Violet's  whole 
life  you  're  jolly  well  mistaken — see  ?  " 

"If  you  go  on  as  you  have  begun,"  I 
retorted,  "I  see  that  you  are  more  likely 
to  ruin  it  by  marry  ing  her." 

He  left  me  in  disgust,  but  he  had  left 
21 


"  Georgia  " 

also  a  poisoned  shaft  to  rankle  in  my 
heart,  and  presently  I  got  up  and  strolled 
over  to  the  tumble-down  old  Rectory 
where  Drusilla  and  Anne  lived  with  their 
decrepit  father. 

Before  I  reached  the  front  door  I  met 
Anne — a  little  brown  mouse  of  a  girl  with 
quiet  manners  and  calculating  eyes.  We 
did  not  like  each  other  much,  and  she  told 
me  that  her  sister  had  gone  to  bed  with  a 
headache. 

"  I  will  go  in  and  see  the  Rector,"  said 
I  coolly,  and  walked  on  to  the  house.  But 
I  was  glad  to  find  that  he  was  not  in  the 
library  or  the  dining-room.  The  house 
seemed  to  be  deserted,  and  the  side  door 
opening  on  to  the  tennis  lawn  stood  open 
as  usual.  I  went  out  and  crossed  the 
daisied  and  dandelioned  lawn.  I  might  as 
well  go  home  this  shorter  way,  I  thought. 
Down  the  weedy  path  through  the  kitchen 
garden,  and  so  into  the  orchard,  and 
under  the  fruit  trees  to — ah !  what  was 
that? 

A  low  sound  of  sobbing  had  suddenly 
22 


"Plain  Anne" 

caught  my  ear.  Someone  was  evidently 
in  deep  distress,  not  very  far  away.  I 
looked  round,  and  right  away  in  the 
corner  under  the  Morella  cherry  tree  a 
glimpse  of  something  blue  caught  my  eye. 
Then  I  knew  who  was  so  unhappy. 

She  was  lying  on  her  face  in  the  grass, 
sobbing  ;  and  in  a  minute  I  was  kneeling 
beside  her  touching  her  shoulder  gently. 

"  Drusilla  !  "  I  said,  "  what  is  it?  Don't 
cry  like  this.  What  is  it  ?  " 

At  the  sound  of  my  voice  she  shivered. 

"You?"  she  said.  "Go  away,  oh, 
please,  please,  go  away!" 

"  I  can't  leave  you  like  this.  Do  tell 
me  what  —  " 

"  I  can't  tell  you.     Go  away  !" 

"  Is  it  —  "I  asked  slowly,  "  is  it  —  what 
has  Georgie  done  to  make  you  cry  like 
this  ? " 

"  He  has  n't  done  anything.  You  had 
better  go  away  please." 

"  Miserable  young  hound !  "  cried  I  sav- 
agely. 

Drusilla  raised  her  head  suddenly. 

23 


"Georgie" 

"  He  's  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  she. 
"  Don't  you  dare  to  call  him  names.  If 
anyone  is  a  hound  it  's  me.  And  nobody 
could  be  more  miserable" 

"Tell  me  why  you  are  so  unhappy," 
said  I  sadly.  "  I  should  like  to  help  you 
if  I  can.  I  can't  tell  you  how  pleased  I 
should  be  to  do  something  for  you." 

"  No  one,"  she  said  with  a  despairing 
sob,  "  can  help  me  now.  Least  of  all 
you" 

I  looked  at  her  in  astonishment,  and  she 
rose  to  face  me  defiantly. 

"  Why  ? "  I  asked,  for  I  did  n't  under- 
stand even  then. 

"  Because  it  is  through  you  that, — oh, 
why  do  you  force  me  to  tell  you  ?"  Don't 
you  see?  Can't  you  understand?" 

" What  —  "I  took  a  step  nearer. 
"  Drusilla !  —  You  don't  mean  "  — 

"Yes,"  said  she  desperately,  "that's 
exactly  what  I  do  mean.  And  I  'm  false 
to  Georgie.  The  dearest  and  best  and 
truest  boy  in  the  world." 

I  caught  her  hands  in  mine,  but  she 
24 


Georgie 


"Plain  Anne" 

wrenched  them  away  again,  and  she  read 
the  question  in  my  eyes. 

"Yes,"  she  whispered,  "I  do.  I  can't 
help  it.  I  try  not  to.  You  don't  know 
how  hard  I  've  tried.  You  have  bewitched 
me,  I  think.  I  am  not  myself — and — oh, 
it  is  awful — awful.  It  will  break  Georgie's 
heart,  if  he  knows." 

I  began  to  speak  hastily — then  remem- 
bered once  more  my  promise  to  that 
wretched  boy,  and  stopped. 

"  I  can't  believe  it,"  said  I  slowly.  I 
was  half  dazed  with  joy  at  my  discovery. 
"  It  is  too  good  to  be  true — it — " 

"  No,"  said  she  bitterly.  "  It  is  so  awful 
that  it  must  be  true.  What  shall  I  do  ? 
Oh,  what  shall  I  do?" 

"  If  you  don't  love  him,"  I  said  slowly, 
"why  did  you  ever — " 

She  groaned. 

' '  I  did  love  him,"  she  said  in  an  ashamed 
voice,  "or  I  thought  I  did.  He  is  so 
strong  and  straightforward  and  handsome 
and — and  such  a  dear  boy.  I  could  n't 
help  being  fond  of  him,  and  how  was  I  to 
27 


"Georgie" 

know    that    it   was    the   wrong    kind    of 
love?" 

"  When  did  you  find  out  ?  "  I  asked. 

"When — oh,  you  know  —  you  know  — 
no — you  must  n't  kiss  me.  I  belong  to 
Georgie." 

I  said  something  forcible  about  Georgie 
under  my  breath. 

"  I  wanted  to  break  off  with  him,"  she 
went  on  in  a  low  voice,"  long  ago ;  but 
Anne  would  n't  let  me." 

"  Anne ! " 

"Yes,  Georgie's  rich,  you  know  —  or 
will  be,  and  we  are  so  wretchedly  poor. 
Anne  said  that  by  hook  or  by  crook, 
money  had  to  be  brought  into  the  family. 
She  said  we  must  keep  Georgie  at  any 
cost.  She  said  she  was  such  a  plain  little 
thing  that  it  was  out  of  the  question  for 
her  to  do  it.  There  was  only  me.  Anne 
does  n't  believe  in  love.  She  says  this  sort 
of  feeling  does  n't  last.  Comfort,  sne  says, 
is  the  only  thing  that  really  matters.  But 
I — I  can't  quite  see  it  in  the  same  light — I 
am  sure  she  is  wrong." 
28 


"Plain  Anne" 

•'  Love  is  the  thing  that  matters,"  said 
I  quietly ;  "  we  must  tell  Georgie  the 
truth." 

"  Oh,  I  can't — I  can't !  He  is  so  fond 
of  me,  and  such  a  dear  boy." 

"Yes,"  said  I  grimly,  "he  is  a  very 
dear  boy,  but  there  are  moments  when 
even  the  dearness  of  Georgie  may  be  too 
dear.  Even  Georgie's  peace  of  mind  may 
be  too  dearly  bought,  and  as  for  Anne — 
what  are  all  those  letters  on  the  grass?" 
with  a  hasty  and  expedient  change  of  sub- 
ject. 

"  I  brought  them  out  to  take  to  the  vil- 
lage— I  must  have  dropped  them — when — 
when — oh,  I  hope  it 's  not  too  late  for  the 
post — " 

I  looked  at  my  watch. 

"  I  '11  take  them  down  myself,"  I  said  ; 
"  there 's  just  time."  Ten  minutes  later  as 
I  slipped  them  into  the  box,  a  gray  enve- 
lope addressed  in  Anne's  neat,  round  hand 
caught  my  eye — it  was  to  Miss  Violet 
something  or  other,  at  an  address  some- 
where in  Staffordshire. 
29 


<Georgie" 

I  wondered. 

All  the  next  day  I  thought  the  thing1 
over,  as  calmly,  and  as  dispassionately  as 
possible  from  every  point  of  view,  even 
Georgie's,  and  in  the  end  I  made  up  my 
mind  unalterably.  Then  I  slept  on  it  and 
at  ten  o'clock  the  next  morning  went  to 
look  for  him.  I  found  him  sitting  over 
his  breakfast,  apparently  in  the  deepest 
depths  of  gloomy  despair. 

"  Cheer  up,"  I  said,  "  I  Ve  good  news 
for  you." 

"Thanks.  It's  about  time  I  got  some 
from  somewhere.  It's  a  beastly  world." 

"I've  found  a  way  for  you  out  of  your 
muddle,"  I  said. 

He  looked  up  and  stared,  and  then  I 
noticed  at  his  right  hand  a  little  lilac 
envelope. 

"  Drusilla,"  I  said,  in  an  off-hand  way, 
"  made  a  mistake  in  her  feelings.  Luck- 
ily for  you,  she  had  transferred  her  affec- 
tions to  someone  else — " 

"It's  not  true,"  Georgie  cried  hotly. 
"  It 's  a—" 

30 


"Plain  Anne" 

"  It  is  true,"  said  I,  "but  like  you  she  is 
too  soft-hearted  to  break  her  engagement. 
She  is  as  afraid  of  spoiling  your  life  as 
you  were  of  spoiling  hers.  You  must  tell 
her  the  truth  yourself,  Georgie.  As  a 
point  of  honor  you  must  do  this.  Then 
you  can  make  love  to  your  pretty  Violet 
with  a  clean  conscience.  It 's  a  clear  in- 
tervention of  Providence." 

Georgie  laughed  bitterly.  • 

"  Thanks,"  he  said  again.  "  You  are 
most  comforting,  Martin,  with  your  good 
news  and  your  Providences.  My  pretty 
Violet !  Yes.  I  have  had  a  letter  this  morn- 
ing from  my  pretty  Violet.  You  can  read 
it  if  you  like." 

With  much  surprise  I  took  the  little  note 
— scented  with  Parma  violets;  stamped 
with  a  violet  seal  on  delicate  white  wax, 
and  opened  it.  It  was  short,  but  very 
much  to  the  point : 

DEAR  OLD  GEORGIE, 

I  am  afraid  you  will  think  me  very  cruel 
and  heartless,  but  I  write  to  tell  you  that  all  is 

31 


"Georgie" 

over  between  us.  I  was  too  young  to  know  my 
own  mind  when  I  made  that  promise  and  I  feel 
that  I  can't  in  perfect  honor  go  on  being  en- 
gaged to  you,  when  I  have  promised  to  marry 
the  curate  next  March.  Forgive  me,  dear,  if 
I  have  made  you  unhappy,  and  believe  me, 
Always  your  true  friend, 

VIOLET. 

I  looked  up  from  this  effusion  to  poor 
Georgie's  woeful  face. 

"  Poor  old  boy,"  said  I,  "it  is  hard  lines. 
I  'm  so  sorry." 

"  It  's  a  bit  of  a  sickener,  is  n  't  it  ?  "  said 
Georgie.  "And  now  Drusilla  as  well! 
Sort  of  hits  a  chap  when  he  's  down,  don't 
you  know.  When  I  think  of  the  way  I  've 
loved  that  girl — " 

"  Which  ?  "  said  I  quietly. 

"  Both  of  'em,"  desperately.  "So  now 
you  know." 

"  I  'm  very  sorry  for  you,"  I  murmured 
gravely. 

He  flushed  and  hesitated,  then  made  a 
plunge.      "Wait  a  bit,"  he  cried,  "  Martin 
— I  suppose  I  'd  better  tell  you — " 
32 


"Plain  Anne" 

"Tell  me  what?  "  What  now,  I  won- 
dered. 

"  It  is  a  nasty  knock,  and  it  's  upset  me 
frightfully.  But  I  can't  help  feeling  that 
perhaps  it  's  all  for  the  best.  Three  of 
them  would  have  been  just  a  bit  too  thick." 

"What!" 

"  Yes,"  said  Georgie,  sadly.  "  I  'm  en- 
gaged to  Anne." 


33 


II 
The  Goddess  Girl 


II 
The  Goddess  Girl 

ROM  the  terrace,  through  the 
French  window,  came  Georgie, 
sunburnt  and  in  flannels,  to 
fling  himself  into  an  easy 
chair  facing  me  ;  facing  also  the  window. 
"  Being  engaged  to  Anne,"  he  said 
abruptly,  "  is  the  very  deuce." 

I  put  down  my  book — at  heart  full  of 
sympathy ;  outwardly  full  of  reproof. 
"You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,"  I 
said  sternly. 

"That's  all  very  well,"  he  moodily  re- 
plied. "  Perhaps  I  am ;  but  it 's  driving 
me  to  my  grave  all  the  same,  and  if  some- 
thing does  n  't  happen  pretty  soon  it  '11  be  a 
precious  early  one." 

I  smiled.  Georgie,  in  the  bloom  of 
healthy  youth,  gave  no  promise  of  prema- 
ture decline. 

37 


"Georgie" 

"  Be  a  man,"  said  I  encouragingly. 
"  Look  the  thing  in  the  face.  After  all,  you 
know,  Georgie,  you  asked  the  girl  to 
marry  you.  You  can't,  in  common  de- 
cency, back  out  now." 

"You  're  a  hard-hearted  brute."  Georgie 
kicked  viciously  at  the  leg  of  the  writing- 
table.  "And  it's  all  very  well  for  you,  en- 
gaged to  a  little  peach  of  a  girl  that  you  've 
deliberately  stolen  from  me ;  it 's  all  very 
well  for  you  to  talk  about  being  a  man  and 
sticking  to  it.  It  is  because  I  am  a  man 
that  I  can't.  Think  of  Anne,  and  just 
imagine  yourself  in  my  place." 

"  Heaven  forbid ! "  I  cried  hastily. 
"Anne  was  never  my  idea  of  love's  young 
dream.  But  you — " 

"  Oh,  yes."  Georgie  flung  his  cap  at  a 
bronze  bust  in  the  corner  of  the  library. 
"Rub  it  in  !  Do  !  Tell  me  it  was  all  my 
own  fault !  You  might  have  the  sense  to 
know  that  things  are  a  jolly  sight  harder 
to  bear  when  you  Ve  brought  them  on 
yourself." 

"  I  do  know,"  said  I  gently.  And,  in- 
38 


The  Goddess  Girl 

deed,  I  had  never  for  a  moment  imagined 
that  this  engagement  had  been  the  unas- 
sisted doing  of  our  light-hearted,  in- 
genuous Georgie.  I  knew  Anne  too  well. 
I  knew  the  value  she  set  on  Georgie's 
pretty  property,  and  a  certain  speculative 
light,  dominating  her  steady  brown  eyes, 
had  illumined  the  dark  pages  of  her  mind 
for  me  to  some  purpose.  I  was,  however, 
to  marry  her  sister.  And  I  was  too  fond  of 
Georgie  to  wish  him  to  do  anything  dis- 
honorable. So  far  as  I  could  see  at  pres- 
ent, there  was  no  decent  way  of  putting 
an  end  to  the  absurd  engagement. 

"  Everyone  tells  me,"  Georgie  said 
sadly,  "  that  Anne  is  a  born  manager.  By 
the  expression  in  her  eye,  I  sometimes 
think  she  is  going  to  manage  me." 

I  laughed.    I  rather  thought  she  was. 

"  Before  we  were  engaged,"  he  went  on, 
1  'she  was  as  sweet  as  sugar.  She  listened 
to  me  for  hours  at  a  time,  and  never  seemed 
bored — as  you  do." 

"Thanks," said  I  shortly.  "I  don'texpect 
gratitude  from  you,  but  a  little  common — " 
39 


"Georgia" 

"  Now  it 's  Anne  who  does  the  talking — 
teaching  me  how  to  behave.  She  never 
found  fault  with  my  behavior  in  the  old 
days.  Now,  it  seems,  I  am  full  of  faults. 
She  doesn't  like  my  manners." 

"  Your  what,  Georgie  ?  " 

He  flushed. 

"  Don't  try  to  be  funny.  What's  the 
matter  with  my  manners,  anyhow  ?  She 
does  n't  like  slang.  Imagine  me  without 
slang!" 

"  I  can't,"  said  I. 

"When  I  think,"  he  finished  gloomily, 
"that  for  the  rest  of  my  life  I  shall  have  to 
sit  at  breakfast  opposite  a  woman  who  is 
trying  to  reform  me,  I — oh,  put  yourself 
in  my  place !  It  's  unspeakable.  I  'd 
rather  hang  myself,  and  cut  the  whole 
sickening  show." 

I  laughed  kindly. 

"  Poor  old  chap,"  said  I,  "why  do  you 
drift  into  these  things  so  painfully  early, 
Georgie  ?  You  ought  not  to  have  thought 
of  marriage  for  another  five  years.  Cricket 
and  football  and  hunting  and  all  the  rest 
40 


The  Goddess  Girl 

of  it  ought  to  have  been  enough  for  any 
boy  of  your  age.  The  thing 's  absurd.  Oh, 
Georgie,  Georgie,  when  the  girls  came  out 
to  play,  why  were  n't  you  wise  like  your 
namesake  ?  Why  did  n't  you  run  away  ? " 

"  I  wish  to  Heaven  I  had,"  he  cried, 
with  heartfelt  fervor.  And  I  wished  he 
had  too. 

I  rose  and  walked  up  and  down  the  li- 
brary trying  vainly,  for  the  hundredth  time, 
to  think  of  any  possible  way  out  of  the  mud- 
dle for  the  foolish  boy.  Many  were  the 
scrapes  I  had  helped  him  out  of;  but  this 
last  one,  entered  into  so  lightly,  bade  fair 
to  grow  into  a  tragedy  in  the  future,  if  it 
was  allowed  to  continue. 

Georgie's  handsome  face  was  clouded; 
Georgie's  blue  eyes  held  a  shadow  which 
had  no  business  there ;  Georgie's  pretty 
mouth  drooped  pathetically  at  the  corners; 
and  Georgie  was  only  twenty-one. 

"Martin,"  he  said  earnestly,  "you 
know — it  's  not  the  sort  of  thing  a  fellow 
cares  to  talk  about,  but  she — she  tries  to 
improve  my  mind.  It 's  awful !  Gives  me 


"Georgie" 

books  and  things  to  read!  When  we  were 
in  town  she  made  me  take  her  to  the  Na- 
tional Gallery  to  see  pictures.  Pictures  ! 
Me !  Just  think  of  it.  I  don't  mind  look- 
ing at  a  picture  with  a  story  in  it  if  there 
are  n't  too  many  of  them,  but  when  it 
comes  to  a  lot  of  frowsy  old  Italian  and 
Dutch  saints,  with  wooden  babies  and 
cardboard  halos  !  Oh,  my  hat !  " 

I  laughed. 

•'  Georgie,"  said  I,  "your  education  has 
been  neglected.  A  course  of  Anne — " 

He  interrupted  me  with  an  unexpected 
laugh. 

"  I  put  her  off  pictures.  I  told  her  I 
did  n't  think  a  parson's  daughter  ought  to 
spend  her  time  worshipping  saints.  I  said 
it  was  n't  consistent — graven  images,  and 
all  that  kind  of  thing,  don't  you  know  ?  I 
said  if  she  went  on  I  should  n't  with  a 
clear  conscience  be  able  to  take  her  to 
church  any  more.  So  either  way  I  shall 
get  out  of  one  duty." 

"  What  did  Anne  say  to  that  ?"  I  asked, 
much  amused. 

42 


The  Goddess  Girl 

"  She  did  n't  say  much,  but  she  sighed 
over  me  and  said,  'Barbarous  Georgie,' 
or  something  insulting  of  that  sort.  And 
I  can  tell  you,  old  chap,  it  makes  a  fellow 
feel  pretty  small  beer  when  his  girl  sighs 
over  him  as  if  he  were  a  kind  of  black 
sheep,  and  an  awful  example  to  the 
parish." 

"  I  should  think  it  did,"  said  I  slowly. 
"  What 's  the  matter  now  ? " 

For  Georgie's  eyes,  fixed  on  the  terrace 
outside  the  window,  had  radiantly  lit  up. 
All  the  shadows  had  vanished  quite  sud- 
denly. 

"There,"  said  he  softly.  "That  's  the 
kind  of  thing  to  make  a  fellow  tired  of  be- 
ing engaged  to  Anne." 

Up  the  terrace  steps,  with  a  flaming 
sunset  behind  her,  straight  and  tall,  white- 
gowned  and  chestnut-haired,  a  smile  of 
divine  self-satisfaction  on  her  lovely  mouth, 
a  light  of  victory  in  her  sapphire  eyes, 
came  a  Goddess  Girl,  mallet  in  hand. 
Georgie  gasped.  Under  the  library  win- 
dow she  stopped — some  flaunting  rose  in 

43 


"Georgie" 

the  perennial  border  caught  her  eye,  per- 
haps. She  stooped  to  smell  it,  and  a  clear, 
high,  drawling  voice  carried  well  through 
the  window  and  buffeted  my  sensitive 
ear. 

"  My  !  "  said  the  Goddess  Girl.  "  It 's 
a  real  elegant  rose  !  Come  out,  Georgie, 
and  pick  it  for  me." 

I  glanced  in  dismay  at  Georgie,  who 
was  for  the  moment  crimson  with  conflict- 
ing emotions.  "  Colonial?"  I  murmured. 

"  Yes — no — Virginian.  It  's  the  most 
ripping  little  accent  in  the  world."  He 
rose  quickly  and  went  over  to  the  window, 
already  half  open. 

"Wait,"  I  whispered  imperatively.  "Is 
this — Georgie,  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that 
this  is  the  disgraceful  meaning  of  your 
gloom  ?  " 

"  I  'm  going.out,"  said  Georgie  hastily. 

"  Georgie — for  Heaven's  sake,  be  care- 
ful.— Man,  don't  lose  your  head. — Remem- 
ber Anne. — You — " 

"  Oh,  chuck  it !"  Georgie  cried  ungrate- 
fully, and  before  I  could  speak  again  he 
44 


The  Goddess  Girl 

was  on  the  terrace  gathering  roses  for  the 
Goddess  Girl. 

The  next  day  I  went  to  town  to  see 
Drusilla,  who  was  staying  with  an  aunt. 
In  a  month  we  were  to  be  married,  and 
this  aunt,  luckily  affluent,  and  bewitched 
by  the  little  bride-elect,  was  playing  fairy 
godmother  to  some  purpose,  for  never  a 
Cinderella  was  poorer  than  Drusilla,  the 
parson's  youngest  daughter.  Anne,  the 
eldest,  had  money,  it  seemed,  to  spend  up- 
on her  trousseau,  but  Anne  was  careful. 
She  was,  as  Georgie  had  said,  a  good 
manager,  and  by  foresight  and  thrift, 
somehow,  she  had  saved. 

That  afternoon  I  dragged  Drusilla  away 
from  her  dressmakers  and  took  her  up  the 
river  from  Twickenham.  She  sat  on  the 
scarlet  cushions  and  beamed  at  me.  Round 
and  dimpled  and  merry — no  Goddess  Girl 
could  compare  with  her  in  my  eyes.  But 
this  is  not  Drusilla's  story.  And  Georgie 
was  on  my  mind  still. 

"  Sometimes,"  she  said  presently, 
"  when  you  forget  me,  and  where  you 

45 


"Georgie" 

are,  you  look  worried.  What  is  it, 
Martin?" 

"  I  was  thinking  of  Georgie,"  said  I 
slowly. 

She  blushed. 

"Oh,  Martin — not — " 

"  No,"  I  replied  firmly.  "  I  am  notjeal- 
ous  of  him,  or  of  any  one  else.  Don't  you 
think  it.  But  Georgie's  engagement  is  on 
my  mind." 

Her  happy  face  clouded. 

"  Why  ?  Is  it — is  it  because  you  are  n't 
fond  of  Anne  ?  " 

It  seemed  to  me  that  this  was  a  mild 
way  of  putting  it,  but  nevertheless  I  gazed 
at  her  with  deep  reproach. 

"Anne  is  your  sister,"  said  I,  "and  it 
is  impossible  for  me  to  speak  as  freely  as 
I  could  wish ;  but  the  fact  remains  that 
Georgie  is  unhappy." 

She  looked  distressed. 

"  Oh — I  am  so  sorry,  Martin  !  Is  it 
because  of —  ?  " 

"  Of  you  ?  "  said  I,  again  with  firmness. 
"  No,  he  is  not  fretting  for  you — why, 
46 


The  Goddess  Girl 

I  do  not  know,  but  he  is  n't.     Quite  the 
contrary.    Yet  he  is  not  in  love  with  Anne 
He  never  was  in  love  with  Anne.     He 
never  will  be  in — " 

"  Oh  !  "  she  interrupted  me  indignantly. 
"  Then  he  should  n't  have  asked  her,  he 
— oh,  what  a  perfectly  disgraceful  boy  he 
is!" 

"  He  is  a  little  rash,"  I  said  with  a  sigh, 
"but,  dearest,  even  if  she  is  your  sister, 
we  both  know  Anne.  Of  course,  I  won't 
say  a  word  against  her,"  I  hastily  added, 
"but  honestly,  Drusilla,  do  you  think  that 
Georgie  had  a  chance  of  escaping  when 
her  mind  was  made  up  ?  Do  you,  in  your 
inmost  heart,  consider  that  that  absurd  boy 
had  a  fair  run  for  his  money  ?  " 

Drusilla  crimsoned  and  dropped  her 
eyes.  She  was  torn,  I  saw  well  enough, 
by  conflicting  emotions ;  a  conscientious 
desire  to  defend  her  sister,  and  a  heart- 
whole  agreement  with  me. 

"  Anne  is  very  clever,"  she  said  doubt- 
fully. 

"  And  Georgie  is  n't,"  cried  I.     "  His 
47 


"Georgie" 

worst  enemy  could  not  accuse  him  of  diplo- 
macy. He  is,  as  you  have  often  said,  a 
dear  boy ;  but  an  infant  could  lead  him  by 
the  nose.  We  must  put  our  heads  together 
and  do  something  for  him." 

She  was  silent. 

"For  him  to  break  off  the  engagement," 
I  went  on,  "  is  impossible.  Only  one  thing 
remains.  If  Anne  could  be  brought  to 
see—" 

"Anne,"  said  Drusilla,  firmly,  "never 
could." 

"If  Anne,"  I  pursued,  "were  to  find — " 

"Anne,"  Drusilla  shook  her  head,  "never 
will." 

But  an  idea  drifted  into  my  head,  and 
my  hopes  for  Georgie  were  rising  high. 
"Wait,"  said  I,  "let  me  speak."  And  then 
I  unfolded  my  plan. 

The  next  time  I  went  to  see  Georgie 
I  found  Anne,  dressed  with  her  usual  dark 
economy,  waiting  in  the  drawing-room  for 
Georgie's  mother. 

"You  have  been  up  to  see  Drusilla?" 
she  asked  politely. 

48 


The  Goddess  Girl 

"Yes,"  I  said  slowly,  watching  her  in- 
tently. "  But  my  errand  was  a  double 
one.  I  went  to  town  principally  to  hunt 
for  my  best  man.  I  found  him." 

"  Who  ? "  with  obvious  interest.  "  And 
why  not  Georgie  ? " 

"  Georgie  won't.  This  is  an  old  friend 
of  mine,"  I  said  slowly.  "  A  friend  of 
childhood's  hour.  A  man  called  Mugge- 
ridge  with  a  monocle.  Stout  and  sandy, 
but  a  good  chap  at  heart.  Lucky  beggar ! " 

I  sighed. 

"Why  lucky?"  Her  interest  was 
growing. 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders. 

"  Oh,  fortune's  favorite,  and  that  sort  of 
thing,  don't  you  know  ?  Just  had  a  legacy 
from  an  uncle  running  well  into  five  figures. 
When  you  come  to  think  of  it,  Anne, 
ninety  thousand  pounds  will  give  an  air 
of  afBuence  even  to  our  humble  wedding." 

"  It    will,     indeed."       Her    voice    was 

weighty  with  respect  for  him,   and  I  felt 

that  a  little  of  it  was  even  reflected  on  me, 

the  prospective  owner  of  such  a  grooms- 

49 


"  Georgie" 

man,  but  at  this  moment  we  were  inter- 
rupted by  a  sudden  uproar  coming  from 
the  hall.  A  banging  and  clattering  and 
shrieking  and  bumping,  followed  instantly 
by  shouts  of  happy  laughter,  broke  upon 
our  ears.  I  gazed  at  her  in  amazed  in- 
quiry. 

"  That,"  said  she  quietly,  "  is  only 
Georgie.  He  is  tobogganing  down  the 
stairs  with  a  tea-tray — and  Miss  Gale." 

"Miss  Gale?" 

"  The  American  girl  who  is  staying 
here.  They  seem  to  be  enjoying  them- 
selves. They  have  piled  all  the  fur  rugs 
into  a  heap  at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs. 
You  must  have  noticed  them  when  you 
came  through." 

I  had  n't,  and  I  gazed  at  Anne  for 
some  seconds  in  silent  reflection.  Her 
brown  eyes  were  calm  and  unperturbed. 
Did  n't  she  mind  Georgie's  curious  be- 
havior, I  wondered  ?  Or  was  she  so  sure 
of  him  as  to  feel  that  this  kind  of  thing 
did  not  matter  ?  Before  I  could  decide, 
Georgie's  mother  came  in  to  us,  large  and 

50 


The  Goddess  Girl 

handsome,  and  beaming  with  welcome 
for  me ;  a  demonstrative  affection  for 
Anne,  her  future  daughter-in-law.  But 
Anne  did  not  stay  long,  and  when  she 
went  away  she  slipped  through  the  window 
into  the  garden.  "  It  is  a  short  cut,"  she 
said.  Obviously,  she  wished  to  avoid  the 
contents  of  the  tea-tray  in  the  hall.  She 
had  a  genius  for  avoiding  upsets,  had 
Anne. 

"  Georgie  is  behaving  in  the  most 
shocking  manner,"  said  his  mother  with 
affectionate  pride.  "  I  can't  help  feeling 
that  I  ought  not  to  have  invited  that 
charming  girl  here  at  present ;  but  what 
was  I  to  do  ?  She  is  only  in  England  for 
the  summer,  and  her  mother  was  at  school 
with  me.  She  had  to  come." 

Another  shriek  of  happy  laughter  rang 
from  the  hall — another  bump. 

Georgie's  mother  smiled  in  spite  of  her 
fears.  "  They  are  like  two  children  home 
from  the  holidays,"  she  murmured.  "  But 
I  can't  help  feeling  a  little  anxious.  There 
is  Anne,  you  see,"  she  sighed. 

51 


"  Georgie" 

"Yes,"  I  agreed.     "There  is  Anne." 

"  Of  course,  Georgie  is  the  dearest  boy, 
and  would  n't  think  of  hurting  a  fly — but 
he  is  very  thoughtless.  Anne,  of  course, 
can  look  after  herself,  but  I  don't  like  to 
think  that  he  is  trifling  with  this  nice  girl's 
young  affections,  when  he  is  in  honor 
bound — to  Anne." 

"  No,"  said  I  gravely,  "  it  is,  as  you  say, 
hardly  fair." 

"  But,  Martin — between  ourselves — I 
can't  help  feeling  that  this  would  have 
been  a  good  deal  more  suitable  in  every 
way." 

"Than  Anne?  "said  I. 

"Yes.  These  two  have  a  thousand 
things  in  common.  They  play  cricket 
together  for  hours.  Georgie  says  she 
bowls  straighter  than  nine  men  out  of  a 
dozen,  and  you  know  how  Anne  detests 
games.  Then,  of  course,  there  is  the  river 
and  the  motor.  The  motor  makes  Anne 
nervous,  when  Georgie  drives,  and  per- 
haps he  is  rather  reckless.  Dear  boy,  he 
ran  over  a  pig  the  last  time  he  took  her 
52 


The   Goddess   Girl 

out,  and  she  has  steadily  refused  to  go 
with  him  since.  He  must  have  a  com- 
panion, and  I  would  n't  trust  myself  in 
the  dreadful  thing  for  worlds.  So  what  is 
the  boy  to  do  ?  They  go  off  for  long 
motor  picnics  all  over  the  country,  and 
come  'back  with  happiness  shining  all 
over  them.  They  are  a  most  delightful 
pair — even  if  he  is  my  son.  But  what 
about  Anne  ? " 

In  my  mind  I  went  over  my  last  con- 
versation with  Drusilla,  and  smiled  mys- 
teriously. 

"  If  I  were  you,"  said  I  slowly,  "  I 
would  n't  worry  about  Anne  yet." 

Georgie  walked  back  to  the  village  with 
me,  and  unburdened  his  soul  in  the  hearty 
manner  habitual  to  him  on  these  occasions. 

"There  never  was  a  more  unlucky  brute 
than  me,"  he  said  with  easy  grammar. 
"  How  can  I  behave  honorably,  with  a 
girl  like  that  in  the  house  driving  me  to 
distraction  ?  She  's  divine  !  I  try  to  keep 
away  from  her  and  then  my  mother  sends 
us  out  together  in  the  Scarlet  Runner.  She 

53 


"Georgie" 

is  the  finest  company  in  the  world,  and 
the  times  we  have  together  are  simply 
ripping.  To  think  I  might  have  had  her 
with  me  always,  if  I  had  n't  been  in 
such  a  confounded  hurry !  Martin,  why 
the  blue  blazes  did  you  let  me  go  and  get 
engaged  ?  " 

"Upon  my  word!"  I  said,  aghast.  "Con- 
sidering that  it  has  been  a  kind  of  hobby 
with  you  ever  since  you  left  school — " 

"  Well,  Heaven  knows  what  the  end  of  it 
will  be,"  he  interrupted  dismally.  "  We 
were  spinning  down  the  Linnyshaw  Hill 
yesterday  at  the  sort  of  pace  to  put  me  in 
jail  for  six  months  if  I  'd  been  caught,  and 
we  were  both  gloriously  happy.  All  at 
once  something  tempted  me  to  let  the 
thing  go  to  smash  at  the  bottom,  and 
finish  the  whole  business  with  a  fine  stage 
effect.  There 'd  have  been  some  satis- 
faction in  chucking  this  beastly  planet  with 
my  arm  around  her." 

"Yes,"  said  I  calmly,  "in  little  bits. 
And  so  nice  for  your  mothers  afterwards. 
Don't  be  a  confounded  fool,  Georgie ! 
54 


The  Goddess  Girl 

Face  the  thing  like  a  man.  You  can't 
avoid  the  girl,  but  you  can  at  least  refrain 
from  making  love  to  her." 

Georgie  grunted.  "  It  's  not  so  jolly 
easy  as  you  seem  to  think,"  said  he. 

I  laughed.  "  You  wait,"  said  I  cheer- 
fully. "  There  's  many  a  slip — you  know." 

"  But  not,"  said  Georgie,  shaking  his 
head  sadly,  "  when  Anne  holds  the  cup  !  " 
And,  indeed,  from  my  own  private  opinion 
of  Drusilla's  sister,  I  felt  that  he  had  good 
grounds  for  his  despair. 

Our  own  wedding  day  came  very  soon, 
and  I  was  married  in  her  father's  church 
to  a  wonderful  white  Drusilla,  radiant  with 
a  new  and  delicate  loveliness.  The  old 
rectory,  transformed  for  the  occasion  by 
the  fairy  godmother  aunt  and  Georgie's  de- 
lightful mother,  held  a  reception  on  its 
weedy  lawn  in  the  afternoon,  and  by  my 
side  a  pink-cheeked  little  wife  received 
many  congratulations.  Then  I  remem- 
bered something  I  had  to  do  before  I  took 
her  away,  and  I  wondered  how  I  was  to 
manage  that  parting  interview  with  Anne, 

55 


"  Georgie  " 

which  was  so  necessary  to  my  plans  for 
Georgie's  deliverance.  Luck,  however,  fa- 
vored me,  for  when  Drusilla  had  gone  up- 
stairs I  caught  Anne,  the  bridesmaid, 
quickly  following  her,  and  drew  her  into 
the  vicar's  study  for  one  minute. 

"Anne,"  I  said  gravely,  "I  must  have 
a  few  words  with  you  before  we  go." 

She  stared  at. me  in  amazement,  and  I 
drew  her  to  the  window.  The  Goddess 
Girl  was  blooming  on  the  lawn  in  her 
flounced  dress,  pink  as  a  horse-chestnut 
blossom,  her  head  agleam,  like  the  horse- 
chestnut  itself,  peeping  from  the  green, 
prickly  shell  of  a  chiffon  picture  hat. 
Georgie  was  at  her  side,  talking  earnestly. 
A  pretty  pair. 

"  Look,"  said  I  softly,  and  Anne  looked. 
Then  she  turned  to  me  with  wondering, 
speculative  eyes. 

"  Now  look  over  there,"  I  said,  "  at  Mug- 
geridge." 

My  groomsman  was  eating  ices  under 
the  old  pear  tree — a  picture  of  stout  and 
smiling  complacency. 
56 


The  Goddess  Girl 

"  Muggeridge,"  said  I  gaily,  "has  ninety 
thousand  pounds.  He  is  good-tempered 
and  easy-going,  and  he  wants  a  wife." 

"  Ah  !  "  Anne  caught  my  meaning,  as  I 
saw,  but  she  did  not  blush.  She  never  did. 

"  Yes,"  said  I  impressively,  "  he  has  an 
ideal.  He  is  waiting  to  find  a  girl  who 
will  love  him  for  himself  alone ;  a  lady  who 
will  never  interrupt  him  when  he  speaks, 
a  woman  who  will  devote  her  life  to  his 
comforts.  He  requires  more  comforts  than 
any  man  I  ever  met.  Also,  he  objects  to 
a  woman  having  opinions  of  her  own." 

"  I  don't  see,"  said  Anne  quietly,  "  how 
you  expect  all  this  to  interest  me ! " 

"  Dont  you  ?  He  is  staying  on  in  the 
village  for  ten  days  or  so — I  thought  per- 
haps the  vicar  might  sometimes  take  pity 
on  his  solitude  and  ask  him  to  dine.  He 
has  twice  as  much  money  as  Georgie,  and 
would  be  infinitely  easier  to  manage. 
Georgie  is  young  and  restive.  In  time 
perhaps — who  knows  ? — but  he  might  kick 
over  the  traces — or — even — bolt !  " 

Anne  was  still  gravely  scrutinizing  the 

57 


"Georgie" 

pair  on  the  lawn,  but  at  my  words,  plain 
to  brutality,  she  turned. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  placidly,  "and 
now,  if  you  have  quite  finished,  I  will  go 
up  to  my  sister." 

When  Drusilla  came  downstairs  in  a  de- 
lightful gown  of  soft  blue,  chosen,  I  suppose, 
to  match  her  eyes,  I  forgot  Georgie  and 
took  her  away.  For  three  weeks  we 
thought  little  enough  of  Anne  or  the  God- 
dess Girl.  But  we  came  home  at  last, 
and  the  first  person  I  met  in  St.  Mar- 
garet's was  my  groomsman.  He  greeted 
me  with  a  studied  coolness  new  in  him,  and 
made  an  obvious  effort  to  pass  me  with  dig- 
nified disdain,  but  he  did  n't  quite  manage 
it.  He  merely  conveyed  the  impression 
that  he  was  stouter  than  before  and  much 
more  out  of  breath.  He  quite  forgot  his 
dignity  to  descend  into  conversation,  and 
as  I  was  leaving  him  he  called  me  back. 

"  I  want  a  word  with  you,  Martin,"  he 
said.  "  Come  round  to  my  rooms  at  the 
Candlestick,  will  you?  I  want  a  word 
with  you." 

58 


The  Goddess  Girl 

We  were  outside  the  post-office  and  I 
followed  him  down  our  tidy  village  street 
where  the  cottages  stood  in  neat  pairs  and 
the  slim  poplars  and  ash  trees  grew  to  a 
set  pattern,  to  the  end  of  it  where  the 
Candlestick  Inn  waited  with  open  doors 
for  us,  like  a  model  church  from  a  child's 
box  of  German  bricks. 

The  inn  was  as  new  and  comfortable  as 
the  church  was  old  and  dilapidated,  and 
Muggeridge  had  a  pleasant  sitting-room 
sufficiently  remote  from  the  well-conducted 
tap-room.  He  followed  me  in  to  shut  the 
door  with  a  slam. 

"Why  did  you  ask  me  down  to  your 
accursed  wedding  ?  "  cried  he,  sitting  down 
heavily  in  a  remonstrating  wicker  chair. 

"Upon  my  word!"  I  stared  at  him 
blankly.  What  could  have  happened  to 
inflame  him  like  this  ?  He  breathed  fire  and 
hatred  at  me ;  a  stout  and  threatening 
volcano. 

"  Hang  you  and  your  wedding  !  "  cried 
he. 

"  Muggeridge ! " 

59 


"Georgie" 

I  moved  with  stately  displeasure  toward 
the  door. 

"  Oh,  don't  go  away ! "  His  tone 
changed  to  entreaty.  "You  might  show 
a  little  decent  feeling,  considering  the  share 
you  Ve  had  in  the  .thing  !  "  he  groaned. 

"If  you '11  try  to  ex — " 

"  You  remember  what  the  insurance 
doctor  said  about  my  heart  ?  " 

"No,"  said  I  firmly.  What  was  his 
heart  to  me  ?  "I  never  heard  that  you  'd 
even  seen  a  doctor.  I  don't  know  any- 
thing whatever  about  your  heart,  and  I 
can't  say  that  I  ever  thought  about  it."  I 
was  justly  offended  by  his  most  extraordi- 
nary conduct. 

At  this  Muggeridge  gazed  sentimentally 
at  his  beautiful  brown  boots. 

"  I  'm  not  sure  that  I  have  one  now,"  he 
said.  And  I  wondered  if  he  were  mad. 

I  sat  down  and  stared  at  him  in  despair. 

"The    doctor,"  said    he    impressively, 

"  told  me  that  no  office  in  the  world  would 

insure  me  for  five  minutes.     He  said  my 

heart   was    out  of  place,   enlarged,  fattily 

60 


The  Goddess  Girl 

degenerated,  and  that  it  had  only  one 
valve.  He  said  that  a  shock  might  kill  me 
at  any  moment." 

Startled  and  grieved,  I  expressed  at 
once  my  deep  sympathy  and  said  I  hoped 
it  was  n't  true.  Told  him  I  did  n't  believe 
much  in  specialists,  anyhow. 

"  Neither  did  I,"  said  poor  Muggeridge 
dejectedly.  "  Guinea-pigs,  I  call  'em.  Give 
you  ten  minutes  with  a  finger  on  the  bell 
and  tell  you  to  come  again  in  three  months. 
But  there's  no  doubt  about  my  heart.  It's 
not  a  common  sort  of  organ,  I  can  tell  you. 
I  went  to  two  or  three  other  chaps  and 
they  only  confirmed  the  verdict  of  the  first 
one." 

"  How  long  ago  was  this  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  three  months  ago  or  so !  Just 
after  I  had  got  my  money.  I  didn't  tell 
you  before  because  I  thought  it  might  shed 
a  gloom  over  the  brilliancy  of  your  honey- 
moon, don't  you  know  ?  But  it  struck  me 
directly  I  did  know,  that  I  should  want  a 
good  deal  of  looking  after.  Not  the  sort 
of  loving  care  that 's  paid  for  at  the  rate  of 
61 


"Georgie" 

three  guineas  a  week,  but  genuine,  disin- 
terested affection." 

I  was  silent. 

"A  wife  seemed  the  most  likely  thing/' 
he  went  on,  calmly  disregarding  my 
amazed  and  horrified  stare.  "A  quiet, 
loving,  dutiful,  obedient,  tactful  little  wo- 
man with  a  cool  hand  and  a  light  step.  A 
woman  who  does  n't  slam  doors  and  who 
always  shuts  'em.  A  woman  who  listens 
without  interrupting  and  finishing  your 
sentences  for  you,  and  does  n't  want  to  be 
taken  to  theatres  and  those  cursed  Ger- 
man band  restaurants  three  times  a  week." 

Still  I  was  speechless.  His  selfishness 
appalled  me. 

"With  my  head  full  of  this,  the  only 
comfort  I  can  ever  hope  for  now,  you 
brought  me  down  to  this  confounded  hole, 
and  left  me  alone  and  defenceless,  almost 
on  the  rectory  doorstep." 

"Yes,"  I  said  faintly. 

"Well."  Muggeridge  rose  heavily  to 
shut  the  window.  "  You  know  what  Anne 
is." 

62 


The  Goddess  Girl 

"  I  do,  indeed,"  said  I  miserably. 

"  Gentle,  and  womanly,  and  thoughtful." 
He  hurled  the  adjectives  at  my  dejected 
head. 

"  She  's  all  that  and  more,"  I  murmured, 
for  in  my  penitence  I  was  just  to  her. 

"Tactful,  and  quiet,  and  soft-footed." 

"As  a  mouse,"  said  I. 

"A  born  manager." 

"  She  is,  indeed."  With  fervor  I  could 
confirm  him  in  this  impression. 

"  I  never  knew  a  cooler  hand." 

"  Nor  I,"  cried  I  with  real  feeling. 

As  heavily  as  he  had  risen,  he  sat  down 
and  groaned,  in  complete  unison  with 
the  wicker  chair. 

"A  girl  in  a  thousand,"  finished  he. 

"In  a  million,"  agreed  I  with  desperate 
honesty.  "But,  Sandy" — I  returned  to 
his  old  nickname  in  affectionate  absence 
of  mind — "  are  you  mad  or  only  criminal  ?  " 

He  gazed  blankly  at  me. 

"  With  a  heart  like  you  say  yours  is  !  " 
said  I.  "  Have  you  spoken  to  Anne  ?  " 

"Yes." 

63 


"Georgie" 

"Did  you  tell  her  the  truth  ? "  I  had  little 
hope  that  he  had  had  sufficient  good  feel- 
ing for  this. 

"  I  did,"  said  he  with  quiet  dignity. 

"Thank  goodness!  "  I  gasped  with  re- 
lief. "  And  what  did  Anne  say  ?" 

"  She  said  it  made  no  difference  to  her 
feelings." 

"  May  I  ask  what  her  feelings  were  ?  " 

Muggeridge  went  on.  "  It  was  an  awful 
shock  to  me,  and  I  have  to  avoid  shocks. 
You  did  the  worst  day's  work  of  your  life 
when  you  threw  me  across  her  pathway. 
It  's  a  queer  thing,  Martin,  but  ever  since 
she  refused  me  she  has  seemed  every  hour 
to  grow  more  desirable  and  indispensable 
to  my  comfort — " 

"  I  can  quite  believe  that,"  said  I 
earnestly.  "  But  I  wonder  why  she  re- 
fused you,  if  your  heart  made  no  differ- 
ence." For  I  still  felt  that  Anne's  only 
eye  was  for  the  main  chance. 

Muggeridge,  once  more  volcanic,  glared 
and  sputtered  at  me. 

"  Curse  it !  "  said  he.  "  You  know,  and 
64 


The  Goddess  Girl 

everybody  knew,  but  me.  She  refused  me 
because  she  's  an  honorable  young  woman, 
and  she  's  engaged  to  that  infernal,  con- 
ceited, long-legged,  young  puppy  they 
call  Georgie  !  " 

I  could  offer  no  real  comfort  to  his  lac- 
erated feelings,  and,  with  my  mind  in  a 
whirl,  I  left  him  to  go  and  tell  Drusilla  all 
about  it.  I  found  her  re-arranging  the 
papers  on  my  study  table — a.  thing  I  had 
not  yet  dared  to  tell  her  not  to  do. 

"  Darling,"  said  I  carefully,  "  don't  black 
your  pretty  hands  with  those  dusty,  inky 
things.  I  always  arrange  my  own  papers." 

"Do  you?"  said  she.  "  6ut  not  now 
you  Ve  got  a  nice  little  secretary.  And 
Georgie's  been  in  while  you  were  out. 
He  is  so  sad,  poor  boy.  He  's  just  gone 
down  the  village  for  some  new  blotting- 
paper  for  me,  and  he  '11  be  back  in  ten 
minutes.  He  hoped  you 'd  be  home  then, 
because  he  wants  to  talk  to  you  privately. 
I  asked  him  to  tell  his  troubles  to  me,  but 
he  said  it  was  impossible.  I  suppose  your 
idea  about  Anne  and — I  suppose  it  has 
65 


"Georgie" 

come  to  nothing,   after  all.     Ah,   here  is 
Georgie." 

"  Hallo  !  "  he  said.  "  I  can  only  get  a 
sixpenny  blotter  with  the  King  and  Queen 
on  the  back.  Good  enough  to  write  novels 
with,  I  dare  say.  Martin,  can  I — " 

"I  'm  going  to  see  if  there's  anything 
for  supper."  Drusilla  vanished. 

Georgie  sat  down  and  planted  his  el- 
bows on  some  loose  pages  of  "The  Hid- 
den Princess." 

"  It 's  Anne,"  said  he.  "  I  could  n't  tell 
Drusilla.  The  thought  of  it  is  wearing 
me  to  fiddlestrings.  It 's  Anne." 

"  Poor  old  boy,"  said  I  with  real  sym- 
pathy. 

''It's  that  chap  Muggeridge,"  pursued 
he.  "  Follows  her  about  like  a  shadow. 
Has  n't  the  decency  to  see  that  it  is  n't  the 
thing  to  run  after  an  engaged  girl.  Anne's 
very  loyal,  but  I  can't  help  seeing  that  she 
might  be  happier  with  a  humdrum  chap 
like  that,  even  if  he  is  a  bit  of  an  old 
woman." 

"What!  "cried  I. 

66 


The  Goddess  Girl 

"  Yes,"  George  murmured.  "It 's  not  a 
pleasant  thing  for  a  man  to  see  his  girl 
drifting  away  from  him,  little  by  little  ;  and 
to  see  all  his  plans  for  the  future  melting 
away  like  the  morning  dew.  Is  it?" 

I  regarded  him  sternly,  but  as  he  went 
on  I  saw  that,  as  usual,  he  spoke  in  per- 
fect simplicity  and  good  faith.  Georgie 
never  dissembled. 

"  Before  I  went  away,"  said  I  slowly, 
"  you  told  me  that  being  engaged  to  Anne 
was  the  very  deuce.  You  said  the  worry 
of  your  engagement  was  driving  you  to  an 
early  grave.  You  said — " 

"  You  need  n't  rake  up  the  past."  He 
flushed  a  little.  "  I  Ve  learnt  to  see  things 
in  a  different  light  since  then.  A  man  does, 
you  know." 

"  Oh,  very  often !  "  said  I  meekly.  "  And 
then,  it  's  since  Muggeridge  has  been  try- 
ing to  steal  her  affections — " 

"It's  the  sort  of  thing  a  decent  chap 
should  n't  do,  don't  you  see  ?  "  he  cried 
indignantly. 

"  I  quite  see,"  cried  I,  for  indeed  I  was 

5  67 


"Georgie" 

beginning  to.    "Where    is    the    Goddess 
Girl  ? " 

He  rose  with  dignity.  "  She  's  in  the 
Midlands — staying  a  few  weeks  with  some 
beastly  relations." 

"  Oh  !  " — I  saw  more  plainly  still. 

"  She 's  coming  back  in  a  fortnight, 
though — " 

"  Ah ! " 

"Why  doesn't  that  ass  Muggeridge  go 
back  to  town  ?  "  cried  he  with  his  hat  in  his 
hand. 

"  He  will,"  I  murmured  reassuringly. 
And  Georgie  went  home  again. 

"  If  Muggeridge  has  drawn  those  two 
together  I  have  brought  him  here  to  ex- 
cellent purpose,"  I  said  to  Drusilla,  with 
less  hope  in  my  heart  than  in  my  words. 

But  to  my  surprise  she  only  sighed. 

"  I  don't  think  any  ordinary  girl  will 
ever  make  poor  Georgie  happy, "mur- 
mured she. 

"  I  don't   think   Anne   is   exactly  ordi- 
nary,"   I    answered     thoughtfully.       And 
there  the  discussion  ended. 
68 


The  Goddess  Girl 

It  did  n't  seem  to  me  that  things  were 
any  better,  really,  and  I  felt  that  this 
flickering  afterglow  of  affection  which  had 
been  roused  by  Muggeridge's  devotion 
was  not  a  promising  fire  with  which  to 
kindle  a  life's  happiness. 

Still,  to  me,  there  was  deep  incongruity 
in  the  idea  of  a  marriage  between  Georgie 
and  Anne.  But  my  firm  decision,  now, 
was  to  wash  my  hands  of  the  two  of  them, 
and  it  was  some  weeks  later  that  I  took 
Drusilla  up  to  the  Manor  House  to  re- 
turn the  call  of  Georgie's  mother. 

There  we  found  the  Goddess  Girl.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  Georgie's  heart  and 
principles  were  still  utterly  lost  in  the  in- 
comparable blue  of  her  sapphire  eyes,  but 
I  may  have  been  mistaken.  She  wore 
something  fresh  and  soft  and  silky,  of  an 
apricot  color  and  a  distractingly  becoming 
make,  and  she  swept  across  the  hall  to 
meet  us  with  a  delightful  smile,  a  disguised 
duchess  from  the  departed  day  of  graces. 

With  Georgie,  and  without  any  ex- 
tinguishing hat  over  the  brightness  of  her 
69 


"Georgie" 

beautiful  hair,  she  walked  part  way  home 
with  us — not  quite  to  the  gate  of  the  Little 
Mansion  but  as  far  as  she  could,  avoiding 
the  village  street. 

And  it  was  in  the  larch  plantation  that 
we  came  across  Muggeridge  and  Anne. 
We  heard  their  voices  before  we  saw  them, 
and  Anne's  was  low  and  clear. 

"  I  must  keep  my  word  to  poor 
Georgie,"  we  heard  her  say  with  a  sigh, 
and  I  glanced  at  the  object  of  her  pity 
with  some  apprehension. 

Muggeridge  groaned  audibly.  "  Why 
should  two  valuable  lives  be  ruined  and 
blasted  because  of  that  long-legged,  con- 
ceited, empty-headed  boy?"  he  asked 
moodily. 

Georgie  grew  scarlet  and  plunged  in 
upon  them  before  I  could  restrain  him. 
Drusilla  gasped — the  Goddess  Girl 
giggled. 

"My!"     she    whispered.     "What     a 
picnic ! " 

"  Look    here  !  "  Georgie  cried    hotly. 
"  If  you  think  I  'm  the  sort  of  chap   to  go 
70 


The  Goddess  Girl 

about  blasting  people's  lives,  you  're  jolly 
well  mistaken.  See  !  " 

They  saw.  We  all  saw,  and  Anne  rose 
with  a  little  cry,  white  to  the  lips.  I  tried 
to  draw  Drusilla  away,  but  she  was  spell- 
bound by  the  interest  of  the  moment,  and 
waited. 

"  I  Ve  heard  too  much  and  read  too 
much,"  Georgie  went  on  with  injured 
bitterness,  "  to  expect  constancy  from  any 
woman.  And  I  'm  sorry  that  I  did  n't 
see  that  I  was  in  the  way  long  ago." 

"  Georgie ! "  Anne  began,  but  he 
stopped  her  with  an  indignant  gesture. 

"You  need  n't  explain, "he  said  with  a 
large  magnanimity.  "  I  have  eyes,  Anne, 
eyes  and  ears.  I  give  you  your  free- 
dom." 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  poor  Anne.  "  Can't  you 
see,  Georgie,  that  I  don't  want  my  free- 
dom?" 

There  was  no  doubting  her  sincerity, 
and  I  realized  it  with  wonder,  but  Georgie 
clung  to  this  point  and  shook  his  stubborn 
head. 


"Georgie" 

"  This  sort  of  thing,"  said  he  sorrow- 
fully, "  would  have  driven  some  chaps  to 
the  dogs.  A  woman  does  n't  quite  know 
what  she  's  doing  when  she  plays  fast  and 
loose  with  a  man.  But  I  'm  not  narrow. 
I  'm  not  such  a  selfish  brute  as  to  stand 
between  you  and  happiness.  You  're  free." 

"  Mr.  Muggeridge  !  "  Anne  turned  on 
him  fiercely.  "  Won't  you  speak  for  me  ? 
I  told  you,  did  n't  I,  that  I  could  n't  listen 
to  you  because  I  was  engaged  to  Georgie 
— because  I — I —  " 

Muggeridge  grunted  stoutly  and  cleared 
his  throat.  To  look  at  he  was  not  a  poet's 
dream  of  love,  but  in  spite  of  that  Georgie 
turned,  and  glared  at  him  with  the  hot 
eyes  of  a  rival. 

I  don't  know  what  Sandy  would  have 
tardily  said  in  Anne's  defence,  but  in  the 
nick  of  time  the  Goddess  Girl,  standing  at 
Georgie's  side,  suddenly  drew  nearer,  and 
I  alone  saw  a  pretty,  delicate  hand  steal 
out  from  hanging  laces  to  comfort  him. 
He  turned  quickly  with  a  little  gasp,  and 
looked  at  her 

72 


:  I  hate  a  woman  to  be  false  '  " 


The  Goddess  Girl 

"  Say,  Georgia, "  murmured  she.  "  I 
guess  we  'd  better  make  tracks,  had  n't 
we  ?  This  sort  of  thing  's  making  us  all 
feel  meaner  'n  two  cents." 

At  the  sound  of  those  drawling  accents, 
Anne  turned  furiously  and  stopped  Mug- 
geridge's  explanation. 

"  It 's  a  put  up  thing  !  "  she  cried.  "  Oh, 
I  'm  not  blind,  I  'm  not  blind  !  It 's  Georgie 
who  's  tired  of  me!  He's  been  getting 
tired  of  me  ever  since  you  came.  And  you 
— did  you  know  he  was  engaged  to  me  ?  " 

"Well,"  the  Goddess  Girl  smiled,  ''I 
just  put  two  and  two  together.  I  never 
was  much  at  sums,  but  from  Georgie's 
generally  depressed  state  I  guessed  there 
was  something  serious  troubling  him. 
Then  I  made  inquiries —  " 

Anne  caught  her  breath.  "Did  you 
find  out  anything  else  from  your  in- 
quiries? "she  cried.  "Did  you  find  out 
about  Drusilla,  and  Violet  Sunderland? 
Georgie's  engagements  have  a  short  life 
and  a  merry  one.  It  is  not — dull,  to  be 
Georgie's  fiancee." 

75 


"Georgie" 

The  Goddess  Girl  gave  Georgie's  hand 
a  soft  little  squeeze  ;  at  least,  I  fancied  so. 

"  Perhaps  he  is  a  bit  too  rapid  in  his  ex- 
periments ;  "  she  smiled  slyly  at  that  dis- 
graceful boy.  "And  I  guess  it's  about 
time  he  found  some  one  to  make  up  his 
mind  for  him,  permanently." 

Her  look  and  toi  e  as  she  said  this  were 
delightful.  But  Georgie,  wrapped  up  in 
his  injury,  dropped  her  hand  to  gaze  with 
deep  reproach  at  poor  Anne,  and  Drusilla 
moved  to  her  sister's  side  with  a  sudden 
impulse  of  tenderness.  Anne,  however, 
pushed  her  away  and  turned  with  a  quick 
gesture  of  appeal  to  Georgie.  But  she 
might  have  spared  herself  that  last  humili- 
ation. He  only  rammed  his  straw  hat 
further  over  his  moody  eyes,  plunged  his 
hands  into  his  pockets  and  strode  off.  And 
at  the  distance  of  a  few  yards  he  stopped 
and  turned  to  look  reproachfully  at  poor 
Anne. 

"  I  hate  a  woman  to  be  false,"  said  he. 

And  I  expect  he  did. 


76 


Ill 
The   Humorist 


Ill 
The   Humorist 

E  were  spending  our  summer 
holiday  at  Marybeach,  Drusilla 
and  I  and  our  son.  We  had 
been  there  a  week.  It  was  a 
glorious,  golden  day,  almost  without  shad- 
ows. Matthew  Arnold  was  for  the  moment 
quiet,  and  I  closed  my  eyes.  The  voice 
of  a  pierrot,  sweetened  by  distance,  fitted 
in  with  my  mood,  but  presently  soft  little 
steps  in  the  sand  aroused  me,  and  I  opened 
my  eyes  upon  Drusilla,  standing  in  a  golden 
haze  against  the  September  blue. 

"  Look  at  this,  Martin !     Oh,   do  look 
at  this ! " 

I  took  the  telegram  and  read  it : 

Please  come  to  me  at  once  with  or  without 
Martin. 

GEORGIE. 

79 


"Georgie" 

"  Well !  "  said  I.      "  Upon  my  word  !  " 

"  Something  awful  must  have  happened 
to  him,"  she  said  hurriedly.  "  He  must  be 
ill  or  have  broken  his  leg,  or  something 
worse.  Evidently  he  did  n't  want  to 
frighten  his  mother,  or  he  would  have 
wired  to  her.  It  is  nice  to  feel  that  he 
always  turns  to  us  when  he  is  in  trouble, 
is  n't  it?" 

"  Humph  !  "  said  I,  turning  my  son  right 
way  up.  He  happened  to  be  standing  on 
his  head  in  the  sand,  in  a  vain  attempt  to 
swallow  himself  whole. 

"  Martin,  you  know  how  he  relies  upon 
you." 

"  I  ought  to  by  this  time,"  I  said  drily. 

Drusilla  looked  sentimentally  out  to  sea. 

"  I  always  feel,"  said  she,  "that  we  owe 
something  to  Georgie.  I  always  remem- 
ber that  I  at  least  have  much  to  make  up 
to  him." 

I  laughed.  I  believe  Drusilla  will  hold 
to  her  dying  day  the  opinion  that  Georgie's 
heart  is  given  wholly  to  her.  All  the  dis- 
graceful things  he  has  done,  ever  since  she 
80 


The  Humorist 

gave  him  up  for  me,  she  has,  I  believe, 
put  down  to  his  blighted  hopes  at  that 
time — a  time  I  ha've  every  reason  to  be- 
lieve to  be  firmly  forgotten  by  Georgie. 

"Matthew  Arnold,"  said  I,  "the  mere 
fact  of  your  being  my  son  is  no  reason 
why  you  should  lick  all  the  polish  from 
my  shoe." 

Drusilla  picked  up  the  boy  indignantly. 

"He  is  kissing  it!"  she  cried.  "He 
thought  it  would  please  you.  It  is  one  of 
his  pretty  ways.  And  what  am  I  to  do 
about  Georgie's  wire  ? " 

"Wire  back  and  ask  if  he  is  ill,"  I  sug- 
gested sensibly. 

She  looked  doubtful. 

"  If  it  is  anything  serious,  won't  it  be  an 
awful  waste  of  time  ?  "  she  asked. 

I  sat  up  lazily. 

"  Do  you  want  to  go  ? " 

She  shook  the  sand  out  of  Matthew 
Arnold's  thin  hair. 

"  Nurse  can  be  left  with  Baby  quite  well 
for  one  night.  You  see — if  anything  seri- 
ous happened  before  we  got  there,  we 
81 


"Georgie" 

should  never  quite  forgive  ourselves,  should 
we  ?  And  fancy  having  to  tell  his  mother 
the  awful  truth  afterwards  !  " 

"  Don't  you  rather  jump  to  fatal  con- 
clusions ?  "  I  asked  mildly. 

She  shivered. 

"  Oh,  Martin,  we  don't  want  to  be 
haunted  to  our  dying  days  by  the  memory 
of  how  we  left  the  poor  boy  alone  to  his 
trouble,  perhaps  to  his  death,  do  we  ? " 

I  was  silent.  The  pierrot  in  the  distance 
sang  sadly : 

Laugh,  and  the  world  laughs  with  you ; 
Weep,  and  you  're  weeping  alone. 

Perhaps  this,  with  Drusilla's  arguments, 
softened  my  heart.  Something  must  have 
happened  to  weaken  my  brain,  for  I  said, 
"  Yes,"  and  she  picked  up  her  boy  and 
dragged  me  in  to  look  for  a  railway  guide. 

Georgie  had  wired  from  Neath,  a  little 
town  in  South  Wales,  and  I  patiently 
planned  out  our  tedious  and  disagreeable 
route.  I  could  n't  think  what  had  taken 
him  to  such  an  impossible  place,  a  haunt 
82 


The  Humorist 

merely  of  intoxicated  miners  and,  for  the 
moment,  equally  intoxicated  revivalists. 

Georgie  met  us  at  Neath  very  late  at 
night.  We  were  tired  and  dusty,  and 
Drusilla  was  anxious.  She  was  surprised, 
I  think,  that  he  came  without  an  ambu- 
lance and  crutches — surprised  that  he  was 
able  to  come  at  all. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  I,  shortly.  An  uncomfort- 
able suspicion  lurking  in  my  mind  came 
to  light  much  strengthened. 

"  Drusilla,  you  are  an  angel.  Martin, 
it 's  jolly  decent  of  you  to  come  with  her." 

"Well,"  I  said  quietly,  "  I  rather  think 
I  should  n't  have  let  her  come  alone. 
What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  " 

"The  matter?"  Georgie  looked  puz- 
zled. "With  me?  Oh,  I  'm  all  right. 
It 's  not  me." 

I  stared. 

Drusilla  gave  a  queer  little  laugh. 
"  What  have  you  been  doing  now, 
Georgie  ?  "  she  asked. 

She  guessed  by  Georgie's  face,  I  sup- 
pose, the  sort  of  help  he  wanted,  just  as 

83 


"Georgie" 

I  guessed  it  by  my  previous  experience  of 
his  habits. 

"  Don't  let  's  go  into  details  on  this 
beastly  station,"  said  he  hastily.  "  I  know 
you  '11  be  glad  I  wired  when  I  explain 
things.  At  least,  Drusilla  will.  She  's 
always  kind.  How's  old  Muffin  face?" 

Drusilla  beamed.  "  Baby  's  sweeter 
than  ever,  and  he  's  always  asking  for 
you  in  his  own  pretty  way.  Georgie,  why 
have  you  brought  us  all  these  miles  to  this 
dreadful  place  ?  " 

Georgie  hurriedly  changed  the  subject 
once  more. 

"  I  've  ordered  a  ripping  supper  for  you 
at  the  hotel,"  said  he,  which  was  comfort- 
ing. It  was  some  time  before  I  referred 
to  the  subject  again ;  but  after  supper 
Georgie  himself  gulped  down  a  last  glass 
of  beer  and  made  a  plunge. 

"  Drusilla,  you! II  understand.  Martin 
always  was  an  unsympathetic  beast  to  me. 
I  suppose  I  'd  better  begin  at  the  begin- 
ning." 

"Generally,"  I  murmured,  "it  is  as 
84 


The  Humorist 

well.  Why  did  you  come  to  South  Wales 
at  all?" 

"  My  mother  asked  me  to  come.  She 
wants  some  new  ponies,  you  know,  and 
she  'd  heard  of  a  ripping  little  pair  down 
here." 

"  Go  on,"  said  I.  Drusilla  leaned  her 
elbows  on  the  table,  and  gazed  eagerly  into 
Georgie's  open  face. 

"I  came  by  the  night  train, "he  said, 
"changing  all  the  time,  and  I  had  nothing 
to  eat  but  a  stale  bun  at  Craven  Arms.  I 
was  hungry.  I  got  into  Neath  some  time 
in  the  horrid  gray  dawn.  They  thought 
I  was  a  beastly  bagman  at  the  hotel  and 
gave  me  a  ripping  breakfast.  I  let  'em  go 
on  thinking  it  on  account  of  the  grub. 
Why  do  commercial  travellers  want  so 
much  more  to  eat  than  other  men,  Mar- 
tin?" 

"  I  have  n't  the  least  idea,"  said  I.  "  Go 
on  with  your  story,  Georgie.  We  're  in- 
terested." 

"After  breakfast,"  he  went  on,  "I 
strolled  out  into  the  town,  and  when  I  had 
85 


"  Georgie  " 

walked  up  and  down  a  bit  I  noticed  some- 
thing—" 

"  Well  ?  " 

"  There 's  a  kind  of  hall  here,"  Georgie 
said,  "  calling  itself  a  theatre,  and  on  the 
wall  there  was  a  bill — a  flaming  thing  all 
scarlet  and  black  ;  caught  the  eye  like  any- 
thing, don't  you  know.  But  it  was  n't 
only  the  bill  that  caught  mine.  There  was 
some  one  reading  it." 

"Ah!  "said  I. 

"What  was  she  like?"  Drusilla  asked 
gently. 

Georgie  flushed. 

"  She  was  crying.  I  could  see  the  tears 
rolling  down  her  poor  little  face,  and  her 
eyes  were  red,  as  if  she  'd  been  crying  all 
night.  It  makes  me  feel  furious  to  see  a 
woman  cry.  I  went  across  and  asked  her 
what  the  matter  was.  I  could  see  how 
jolly  pretty  she  must  have  been  if  she 
had  n't  cried  so  much — " 

"  Well  ?  "  I  asked  sadly.  "  Go  on,  Geor- 
gie." 

"This  is  the  bill." 
86 


The  Humorist 

He  pulled  a  long,  narrow  strip  of  yel- 
low paper  from  his  pocket  and  laid  it  open 
on  the  supper  table.  We  studied  it  with 
deep  interest.  When  we  had  finished,  it 
was  to  turn  to  Georgie,  and  back  again  to 
the  bill  with  horror.  It  read  something 
like  this : 

Look  out  for  the  Original  King's  Own  Cam- 
brian Minstrels.  The  Programme  Consists 
of  First-Rate-Up-To-Date-Songs.  All  New 
Sayings.  All  New  Doings.  No  Stale  Business 
Introduced.  The  Artists  Engaged  Have  Ap- 
peared, in  all  the  Leading  Places  in  England, 
Scotland,  Ireland  and  Wales.  Don't  Forget 
This  Visit  !  Patrons  Can  Rely  Upon  a  Pro- 
gramme Free  from  Vulgarity.  First  you  Smile. 
Then  you  laugh.  Finally  you  scream  !  Pro- 
prietor, Mr.  Wallace  Lappin. 

Drusilla  handed  it  back  to  him  with 
perplexed  eyes. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  "it  's  very  in- 
teresting, but  why  does  he  want  the  peo- 
ple to  scream  ?  Do  people  scream  in 
South  Wales  when  they  're  pleased  ?  " 

"  Was  the  weeping  lady,"  I  asked  slowly, 
87 


«  Georgie  " 

"one  of  the  King's  Own  Cambrian  Min- 
strels ? "  Suspicion  was  strong  in  my 
brain. 

"  She  ought  to  have  been,"  Georgie 
cried  indignantly.  "This  fellow  Lappin 
engaged  her,  and  she  came  all  the  way 
from  Devonshire  to  join  this  troupe.  Spent 
all  the  money  she  had  on  the  fare,  and 
now  that  she  's  here,  all  that  there  is  left 
to  meet  her  is  this  bill." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  I  asked,  "that 
there  are  no  King's  Own,  etc  ?  " 

"  Not  here,"  said  Georgie.  "She  was 
to  be  here  last  Wednesday  for  rehearsal, 
and  she  's  never  heard  a  word  from  Lap- 
pin.  She  's  stranded  here  without  a  penny. 
She  can't  even  pay  for  her  room,  poor  little 
girl!" 

"  Why  does  n't  she  write  home  ?  " 

"That  's  just  it,"  said  Georgie,  "she 
dare  n't.  She  ran  away  to  come  on  the 
stage,  and  her  father  has  disowned  her. 
He  's  a  clergyman  down  in  Devonshire 
somewhere.  It  's  a  sickening  shame. 
There 's  a  pianist  chap  stranded  here,  too." 
88 


The  Humorist 

"  Has  he  any  money  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Georgie,  slowly. 

"  Has  he  quarrelled  with  his  people, 
too?" 

"  Not  exactly ;  only  they  don't  quite 
approve  of  him.  He  's  a  helpless  sort  of 
beggar,  you  know ;  can't  do  anything  but 
tinkle  out  accompaniments  rather  badly. 
He  wired  home,  and  I  saw  the  wire,  but 
there  's  been  no  answer  to  it.  He  said: 
'  Lappin  missing.  Nanty  mendzes.' ' 

"  Nanty  what?"  Drusilla  asked  in 
astonishment 

"Nanty  mendzes,"  Georgie  explained 
proudly.  "  '  No  money,'  he  meant.  It  's 
professional  slang.  I  've  learnt  a  lot  of  it 
the  last  few  days." 

"Oh!"  Drusilla  looked  at  the  fire. 
"  Georgie,  don't  think  me  very  hateful,  but 
is  n't  it  just  possible  that  these  people  may 
be  taking  you  in  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Georgie,  shortly  ;  "  it  is  n't. 
I  know  a  nice  girl  when  I  see  one." 

"  You  ought  to."  I  spoke  softly,  and 
he  disregarded  the  jeer. 


"Georgie" 

"  They  're  doing  their  best  to  get  an- 
other shop,  and  they  've  answered  heaps 
of  advertisements  in  the  '  Stage' ;  but  it 's 
no  go.  And,  in  any  case,  they  have  n't 
enough  money  to  get  out  of  the  town.  Of 
course  if  they  got  anything  decent  to  go  to, 
I  would  finance  them  with  pleasure,  but 
they  don't  seem  to  have  any  luck." 

"  Would  you,  indeed? "  I  murmured. 
"Are  they  complete  strangers  to  each 
other?" 

"  Quite.  The  pianist  comes  from  Liver- 
pool, poor  chap,  and  this  girl,  as  I  said, 
from  Devonshire.  She  thought  Lappin's 
advertisement  was  genuine.  The  pianist 
had  his  doubts  from  the  beginning,  he 
says ;  but  he  risked  it  because  he  had 
been  out  so  long,  and  he  's  a  bit  of  an  ass, 
anyhow.  Long  hair,  you  know,  and  .col- 
lars that  are — well — I  can't  think  why  he 
wears  'em.  The  girl  's  as  sweet  as  a  rose, 
and  that  's  why  I  asked  you  to  come, 
Drusilla." 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him  in  sur- 
prise. 

90 


The  Humorist 

"  Me,  Georgia  ?  But  what  can  / 
do?" 

Georgia's  ingenuous  face  took  on  that 
pink  shade  which  becomes  it  so  well. 

"I  've  known  a  good  many  girls,"  said 
he,  "but  never  one  with  such  fetching 
ways  as  you  have.  And  I  've  never  known 
a  woman  with  a  kinder  heart.  I  thought 
if  you  came  here  and  saw  her  for  your- 
self, you  might  do  something  for  this  girl. 
She  's  too  good  for  this  dreadful  life ;  she 
ought  to  give  it  up.  I  thought  perhaps 
you  might  be  able  to  persuade  her  to  earn 
her  living  in  a  different  way — to  teach,  or 
typewrite,  or  something  dull  and  respect- 
able. It  seemed  to  me — "  He  hesi- 
tated. "  I  thought,  don't  you  know,  that 
she  was  the  kind  of  girl  who  might  come 
an  awful  smash  if  she  kept  it  up,  and  I 
guessed  that  you  'd  be  glad  to  help  her 
before  it  was  too  late.  Women  can  talk 
to  each  other,  don't  you  know,  and  it  was 
impossible  for  me  to  tell  her  what  I  really 
thought  abouther beastly  profession.  Some 
of  these  pierrots  and  minstrels  are  jolly  de- 


"Georgie" 

cent  chaps,  but  I  don't  think    it  's  a  nice 
life  for  a  lady — do  you,  Martin  ?  " 

I  was  silent ;  so  was  Drusilla.  Georgie 
went  on  very  earnestly. 

"You  see,  she's  had  such  a  sickener 
now  that  she  would  be  glad  to  give  it  up, 
I  believe.  I  think  Mr.  Lappin  has  washed 
a  little  of  the  rosy  bloom  off  the  life  for 
her  just  now.  Don't  be  angry  with  me 
Drusilla." 

Drusilla  made  an  effort.  "  I  never  can 
be  really  angry  with  you,  Georgie — at  least 
not  for  long.  But  I  don't  think  you  ought 
to  let  yourself  get  so  deeply  interested  in 
all  kinds  of  girls,  now  that  you  are  more 
than  half  engaged  to  Phillida.  And  how 
can  I  influence  a  girl  I  Ve  never  spoken 
to  in  my  life,  even  if  she  is  genuine  ? " 
She  laughed  helplessly.  "Oh,  Georgie, 
you  know  they  always  say  they  're  cler- 
gymen's daughters,  don't  they,  even  in 
novels  ?  " 

"  Upon   my  word,"  said   I   at  last,    "  I 
think  you  must  be  mad.     To  bring  us  all 
this  way  on  a  wild  goose — " 
92 


The  Humorist 

"  Georgie's  goose  is  a  swan."  Drusilla 
gave  another  queer  little  cough.  "  It  al- 
ways is.  And  he  generally  cooks  it ;  don't 
you,  Georgie?" 

Georgie  rose. 

"  I  'm  going  to  bed,"  he  said.  "  You  can 
heap  your  insults  on  my  empty  chair  when 
I  'm  gone.  If  I  stop  any  longer,  I  shall 
say  something  I  'm  sorry  for,  and  I 
shall  be  glad  of  it.  You  will  see  her  in  the 
morning,  and  then  perhaps  you  will  under- 
stand that  I  'm  not  quite  such  a  giddy 
fool  as  you  think  me." 

"  I  devoutly  hope  not,"  said  I  with  some 
earnestness. 

We  were  very  tired,  but  before  she  went 
to  sleep  Drusilla  found  time  to  say  that 
she  really  did  think  it  was  time  Georgie 
grew  up.  She  saw  now,  she  said,  why  he 
had  n't  sent  for  his  mother. 

And  in  the  morning  we  found  him  wait- 
ing for  us,  with  a  girl — the  girl,  of  course. 
Drusilla  and  I  exchanged  quick  glances. 
Perhaps  we  had  both  expected  powder  and 
meretriciously  bronzed  hair.  Here  were 
93 


"Georgie" 

neither.  Hair  as  smooth  and  soft  and 
darkly  brown  as  Drusilla's  own,  and  large, 
innocent  eyes,  stupid  and  brown,  rather 
like  the  eyes  of  a  cow,  and  a  delicate 
oval  face,  palely  pathetic.  Her  little  mouth 
drooped  at  the  corners,  and  she  had  pretty 
teeth.  She  wore  a  shabby  blue  serge  dress 
and  a  little  French  sailor  hat,  and,  at 
Georgie's  introduction,  she  came  shyly  for- 
ward. Everything  about  her  attitude — 
figure,  eyes,  pretty,  sulky  mouth — struck 
me  as  being  appealing,  and  I  was  not  sur- 
prised, that  to  Georgie  the  single -hearted, 
her  appeal  had  gone  home.  Her  name, 
it  seemed,  was  Fitzgerald. 

Drusilla  spoke  first,  kindly  enough. 

"You  will  have  some  breakfast  with  us, 
won't  you?  Martin  do  try  to  get  some 
dry  toast.  And  I  must  have  tea,  not  cof- 
fee." 

It  was  a  curious  meal,  and  an  extremely 
silent  one.  Miss  Fitzgerald  was  frankly 
hungry,  and  with  hot  tea  her  cheeks  grew 
rose-color.  She  was  certainly  very  pretty, 
and  her  drawling  Devonshire  accent  was 
94 


The  Humorist 

attractive.  But  her  parentage  stuck  in 
my  throat  and  kept  me  sceptical,  when  I 
might  otherwise  have  believed. 

Then  Georgie  took  me  out  to  see  the 
town. 

"  Drusilla  will  be  nicer  to  her  if  we  leave 
her  to  it,"  he  said  confidently.  "  She  might 
like  to  have  her  for  a  companion  or  some- 
thing ;  you  never  know." 

"  I  think  I  do  know."  I  smiled  a  little. 
"  Drusilla  must  make  shift  with  her  legal 
companion,  Georgie." 

"  Does  n't  she  want  some  one  to  look 
after  old  Muffin  face  ?  " 

"She  has  some  one.  Matthew  Arnold 
has  an  excellent  nurse." 

We  went  for  a  long  walk  in  the  hot  sun 
and  ga/ed  at  the  monotonous  little  round 
hills  and  dull  valleys  which  surrounded  us. 
Then  I  looked  at  the  ponies  he  had  bought 
for  his  mother,  and  criticized  them  with  the 
frankness  of  inexperience.  In  two  hours 
we  went  back. 

"Drusilla  can  do  a  lot  with  a  person  in 
two  hours,"  said  Georgie  hopefully. 

95 


"  Georgie  " 

"She  can,  indeed."  I  spoke  with  em- 
phasis, as  Drusilla's  husband. 

Opening  softly  the  sitting-room  door, 
I  started  as  I  peeped  in.  Miss  Fitzgerald 
was  crouched  on  the  hearth-rug,  her  head 
on  Drusilla's  knee.  Drusilla's  eyes  were 
full  of  indignant  sympathy,  and  both  had 
been  crying.  I  closed  the  door  again 
softly,  but  Drusilla  called  me. 

"Come  in,  Martin!  Oh,  it  is  a  shame, 
a  shame!  You  must  n't  mind  him  Dolly. 
She  wants  me  to  call  her  Dolly,"  quickly 
reading  my  thought,  "every  one  does,  she 
says." 

Dolly  stayed  where  she  was,  and  sobbed 
audibly. 

"  Martin,  she  says  this  kind  of  thing 
often  happens  in — in  the  profession.  She 
says  these  men  get  a  company  together, 
give  one  performance,  and  clear  off  in  the 
night  with  the  money.  She  says  she 
thought  this  would  be  genuine  because  the 
man  called  it  his  '  Number  2  *  Company. 
She  has  the  advertisement.  May  I  show 
it  to  my  husband,  Dolly  ? " 
96 


The  Humorist 

Miss  Fitzgerald  murmured  a  choked 
assent.  I  unfolded  "  The  Stage,"  and  in 
time,  marked  with  a  blue-pencil  cross,  I 
found  this : 

Wanted  for  No.  2  Company,  pianist,  sou- 
brette,  and  2  comedians.  No  red-nosed  com- 
edians or  yak-yaks  need  apply. — Wallace  Lap- 
pin,  P.  O.  Neath,  S.  W. 

"What  is  a  yak-yak?"  I  asked  in  be- 
wildered tones. 

"  I  don't  know,"  Drusilla  said,  "  and 
neither  does  she.  I  asked  her  if  she  thought 
she  might  possibly  be  one,  but  she  says 
no.  She  is  a  soubrette." 

"  Sparkling  comedienne."  The  soubrette 
gave  another  sob  before  she  went  on : 
"He  's  a  fraud  !  Wanted  to  get  a  crowd 
together,  and  show  one  night,  then  scarper. 
I  Ve  met  his  sort  before." 

The  ready  flow  of  her  professional 
slang  showed  how  far  she  had  drifted  from 
the  parental  rectory. 

"  Poor  child  !  "  Drusilla,  aged  twenty- 
two,  stroked  the  ruffled  brown  hair  kindly. 
97 


"Georgie" 

"  She  walked  three  miles  across  the  hills 
the  day  before  yesterday  with  the  pianist 
to  an  inn  where  she  'd  heard  there  were 
sure  to  be  a  lot  of  people.  They  thought 
they  might  make  a  little  money  by  play- 
ing and  singing  to  the  miners,  poor  things, 
but  they  only  took — " 

"Sixpence,"  Miss  Fitzgerald  murmured 
sadly.  "  You  see  we  did  n't  know  the 
wages  were  paid  fortnightly  here,  and  that 
this  was  the  second  week." 

"And,  besides,"  Drusilla  cried,  "the 
revivalists  had  been  there.  Everybody 
had  been  converted,  and  one  man  told 
Dolly — what  was  it  he  said  to  you,  Dolly  ?  " 

"  Said  he  'd  given  up  the  ways  of  sin, 
and  football  as  well,"  Miss  Fitzgerald  said 
mournfully.  "  Said  that  for  years  he  'd 
been  keeping  goal  for  the  devil,  but  he 
now  hoped  to  play  center  forward  for  his 
Saviour.  As  if  giving  a  few  coppers  to 
us  would  have  made  any  difference  to  that  / 
The  pianist  says  he  's  seen  many  a  crowd 
bottled  in  his  time,  but  never  such  a  set  of 
mean  brutes  as  those  were." 
98 


The  Humorist 

"  Bottling  means  collecting,"  my  wife 
explained  hastily. 

I  gazed  at  Drusilla  in  amazement.  She 
had  apparently  taken  these  disreputable 
players  to  her  heart  as  warmly  as  Georgie 
had  done.  In  our  absence  the  comedienne 
had  evidently  poured  out  her  life's  his- 
tory and  had  drawn  from  Drusilla  a  life's 
sympathy.  A  soft  heart  was  all  very 
well,  I  thought,  but  there  were  limits. 

And  then  Georgie  burst  in. 

"  Look  here  !  "  he  cried.  "  That  beggar 
Lappin  's  been  seen  at  Cymmer.  I  'm  go- 
ing over  to  look  for  him." 

"  Georgie  !  "  Drusilla  stared  at  him. 
"  But  what  can  you  do  if  you  find  him  ?  " 

Georgie  grinned. 

"  I  '11  teach  him  things  if  I  find  him," 
said  he.  "  I  don't  suppose  I  shall  have 
much  trouble.  I  expect  he 's  a  soft,  flabby 
brute — the  kind  of  man  who  doubles  up 
when  you  look  at  him." 

He  stretched  out  a  muscular  arm  and 
smiled  at  it. 

"  Don't  lose  your  head,"  said  I  with 
99 


"Georgie" 

necessary  warning,  "  You  can't  knock 
people  about  now-a-days,  Georgie,  without 
paying  for  it.  Would  your  mother  like 
it,  do  you  think,  if  you  stayed  in  South 
Wales,  on  a  summons  for  assault  and 
battery  ?  " 

But  Georgie  smiled  again  and  dis- 
appeared. 

Presently  the  pianist,  a  melancholy, 
long-haired  wreck,  joined  us,  and  we  heard 
in  plaintive  cockney  the  depressing  history 
of  his  life. 

These  two,  soubrette  and  pianist,  spoke 
the  jargon  of  their  profession,  and  we 
could  not  always  follow  them.  They 
spoke  of  lataris  and  mendzes ;  of  hamfats 
and  of  waxy  homos,  and  of  mijari  and 
beyonks.  They  spoke  of  the  evening 
when  they  went  jogering  to  the  bevicarse, 
and  Mr.  Carlton  Delamere,  the  pianist, 
told  Drusilla,  in  a  burst  of  unprofessional 
confidence,  that  he  had  expected  this,  be- 
cause he  was  a  Jonah.  Then  he  explained 
to  us  what  a  Jonah  was.  The  come- 
dienne called  us  all  "  dear  "  indiscrimi- 
100 


"Miss  Fitzgerald  sang  to  us" 


The  Humorist 

nately,  and  with  the  faintest  encourage- 
ment she  put  her  arm  round  Drusilla's 
waist. 

We  tried  to  cheer  them  up,  gave  them 
the  best  hot  lunch  the  hotel  could  manage, 
also  champagne — of  a  kind,  and  afterward 
Miss  Fitzgerald  sang  to  us  in  the  long 
empty  coffee-room  while  Mr.  Delamere 
vamped  her  accompaniments.  She  had 
a  strong  soprano  voice,  and  her  songs  were 
of  the  musical  comedies — plaintive  ditties 
of  the  love-affairs  of  butterflies  and  bees. 
I  think  her  repertory  held  other  items, 
but  she  sang  for  Drusilla's  benefit,  and 
toward  tea-time  the  spirits  of  our  wander- 
ing ministrels  rose  considerably,  and  then 
it  was  that  I  saw  how  little  hope  there  was 
of  the  Reverend  Fitzgerald  welcoming 
home  his  prodigal  Dolly ;  for  the  life  held 
her  fast  enchained.  Obviously  she 
thought  and  talked  and  lived  only  for  the 
"  show  "  of  the  moment.  Now  that  there 
was  no  show,  there  was  still  hope. 

"  I  should  like  to  run  a  little  show  of  my 
own,"  said  she.      "  It  only    wants    a  tiny 
7  103 


"Georgie" 

capital.  With  twenty  pounds  behind  me, 
I  could  cover  the  first  halls  and  the  first 
fortnight's  salaries  and  railway  fares  ;  and 
a  show  always  pays,  if  it 's  decently  run. 

"Among  the  revivalists?  "  I  murmured 
inquiringly. 

She  shook  her  head  gravely. 

"  Not  in  South  Wales.  I  've  been  here 
before  with  the  Blue  Bohemians.  The 
miners  are  n't  human.  They  're  wild  beasts. 
There  was  a  row  once  here  in  Neath  at 
night.  Every  miner  in  the  town  was 
drunk,  and  our  men  had  to  fight  their  way 
home  from  the  show  and  look  after  the 
girls  at  the  same  time.  When  we  got  to 
the  inn,  the  landlord  thought  we  were  the 
mob  and  would  n't  let  us  in  for  ages.  The 
tenor  had  his  head  cut  open.  It 's  not  a 
nice  place." 

And  then  at  last  we  heard  Georgie's 
voice  in  the  hall.  He  came  in,  but  not 
alone.  A  small,  sandy  man  followed  him 
up  behind.  With  a  manner  half-swagger- 
ing, half-deprecatory,  he  acknowledged 
the  introduction. 

104 


The  Humorist 

"This,"  said  Georgia,  pleasantly,  "is 
Mr.  Wallace  Lappin.  He  is  a  little  late 
for  his  appointment,  but  better  late  than 
never." 

Solemnly  he  introduced  him  to  us  all 
round.  Drusilla  was  agitated,  the  pianist 
apprehensive.  I  was  the  only  person  who 
noticed  Miss  Dolly  Fitzgerald  start  at  the 
sight  of  him,  and  walk  quietly  over  to  the 
window.  I  noticed,  too,  that  her  appear- 
ance was  a  surprise  to  the  stranger.  Had 
they  met  before  ?  " 

"  Pleased  to  meet  you,"  said  Mr.  Lap- 
pin. 

He  had  sharp,  anxious  eyes  and  a  very 
deeply-lined  face,  and  his  manner  became 
genially  intimate  at  once. 

"  Did  you  meet  Mr.  Lappin  in  Cym- 
mer  ? "  I  asked  gravely,  turning  to  Geor- 
gie. 

He  smiled. 

"  Yes,  I  found  him  and — well,  he  de- 
cided we'd  travel  back  together.  Mr. 
Lappin  is  going  to — well,  he  thought  he  'd 
like  to  explain." 

105 


"Georgie" 

Drusilla  sat  down  and  glanced  uneasily 
around. 

The  sparkling  comedienne  was  still 
looking  out  of  the  window.  Georgie  cast 
a  longing  look  in  that  direction,  but  he  did 
not  join  her. 

I  think  somehow  that  Mr.  Wallace  Lap- 
pin  was  used  to  explaining  things.  And 
the  pianist  shared  my  views,  for  he  told  me 
afterward  that  he  could  tell  the  tale  better 
than  any  one  he  'd  ever  met. 

"  I  'm  sorry  I  Ve  been  so  unlucky,"  he 
began  with  easy  fluency.  "  I  booked  the 
hall  and  billed  the  town  and  the  crowd 
did  n't  turn  up.  I  could  n't  show  with 
one  soubrette  and  a  pianist,  now,  could  I  ?  " 

I  was  amazed  at  the  man's  assurance. 

"  You  ought,"  said  I  sternly,  "  to  have 
faced  the  thing  honestly  instead  of  running 
away,  and  you  might  at  least  have  paid 
their  fares  home  again." 

"  Now,  how  could  I  ? "  asked  Mr.  Lap- 
pin  pathetically,  "without  money?  I 
had  n't  a  penny  in  the  world  the  day  be- 
fore yesterday." 

1 06 


The  Humorist 

"  In  any  other,  business,"  said  I  gravely, 
"  it  is  considered  criminal  to  start  without 
capital.  In  yours  it  seems — " 

"But  don't  you  understand,"  Lappin 
said  persuasively,  "  if  I  'd  had  a  bit  of  luck, 
and  if  the  crowd  had  turned  up,  I  should 
have  taken  good  money  here,  and  paid  off 
at  the  end  of  the  week  right  enough.  I  've 
got  no  luck  just  now.  I  thought  perhaps 
it  was  my  name,  so  I  changed  it.  But  this 
one  's  no  better.  I  expect  you  know  me 
pretty  well  by  my  old  one,"  he  finished 
modestly. 

"What  was  it?"  Drusilla  asked. 

"  Hall  Smilo."  He  spoke  with  simple 
pride.  In  the  window  the  dark-haired 
comedienne  laughed  softly  to  herself. 

"I  ran  the  halls  under  that  name,"  he 
said,  with  a  large  wave  of  his  hand.  "  I 
was  touring  in  the  Midlands  before  that 
with  my  wife — 'Madame  Merillian's  Choir,' 
we  called  it.  It  was  in  Lent,  you  see,  and 
it  's  always  as  well  to  run  your  show  as  a 
Choir  in  Lent.  Gives  a  pious  tone  to 
your  bills." 

107 


"Georgie" 

I  gasped. 

"  If  I  had  thirty  pounds,"  said  Mr.  Lap- 
pin  dreamily,  "  I  'd  run  such  a  little  show 
as  you  've  never  seen.  I  'd  wake  up  the 
Midlands  as  no  one  else  has  ever  waked 
'em  up.  I  would  so." 

I  thought  he  was  probably  right,  but 
made  no  comment. 

"  I  'd  get  out  of  this  first.  It  's  a  bald 
pitch ;  but  I  'd  coin  money  in  some  towns 
I  know  of,  if  I  was  sure  of  my  halls  and  a 
few  weeks'  salaries." 

I  wondered  idly,  as  I  looked  at  him,  if 
he  was  really  the  scoundrel  I  had  thought 
him,  or  merely  the  wandering  and  im- 
provident minstrel  he  pretended  to  be. 
An  old  proverb  floated  into  my  mind  as  I 
gazed  into  his  keen  eyes:  "Take  the 
washing  off  the  hedges ;  the  actors  are 
coming  to  town." 

But  Mr.  Lappin  construed  my  silence  to 
his  own  advantage. 

"  If  you  want  to  put  a  little  money  into 
a  dead  sure  thing,"  he  said  graciously, 
"here  's  your  chance.  The  pianist  and 
1 08 


The  Humorist 

soubrette  are  ready.  I  am  a  humorist  my- 
self— refined  humorist  and  ventriloquist, 
and  the  best  mimic  in  the  provinces.  You  '11 
get  your  money  back  a  hundredfold.  It 's 
the  chance  of  a  lifetime." 

I  listened  to  his  twanging  voice  and 
looked  at  the  vamping  pianist  who  was  a 
Jonah,  and  wondered  at  the  man's  hope- 
fulness. If  I  had  seen  more  of  his  profes- 
sion, I  should  have  expected  that  glowing 
and  ever-constant  hope  of  success  which 
marks  his  kind.  Eagerly  he  waited  for 
my  reply,  but  I  made  none. 

Georgie,  however,  had  been  listening 
keenly  and,  as  it  afterward  turned  out,  to 
some  purpose.  He  turned  and  spoke  to 
Drusilla  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  Did  you  do  what  I  asked,  Drusilla?" 

"  Yes."     She  spoke  gravely. 

"  Any  good  ? "  He  glanced  compassion- 
ately at  the  drooping  head  of  the  girl  in 
the  window. 

"  No  good  at  all,  my  dear  boy.  She 
loves  the  life.  You  must  give  it  up, 
Georgie.  She  would  n't  for  worlds.  And 
109 


"Georgia" 

perhaps  it  is  n't  such  a  pity  as  you  think." 
Drusilla  glanced  quickly  at  the  depressed 
Dolly.  "You  see  she  does  sing  well, 
does  n't  she,  and  there  would  n't  be  any- 
thing else  so  very  likely  to  suit — well,  to 
suit  her  peculiar  style,  would  there,  to 
look  at  it  in  a  really  sensible  and  practical 
light?" 

"  I  suppose  not,"  Georgie  said  reluc- 
tantly. 

He  turned  quickly  to  Lappin. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said.  "  If  I  were  to 
finance  you,  what  guarantee  could  you  give 
me  that  you  were  honest  ?  " 

Lappin's  face  lighted  up ;  he  looked  less 
of  a  scoundrel  when  he  was  happy,  I 
found.  But  perhaps  he  is  not  alone  in 
this. 

"  Guarantee  ?  "  he  said.  "  I  '11  write  out 
a  formal  agreement,  and  have  it  legally 
stamped." 

The  pianist  sniffed.     "  I  've  had  stamped 
agreements   before,"  he   murmured    with 
meaning,  "and  no  six  and  eightpence  for 
a  lawyer  to  enforce  'em." 
no 


The  Humorist 

"  How  shall  I  know,"  Georgie  went  on 
firmly,  ignoring  the  dejected  Jonah,  "that 
directly  we  're  gone  you  won't  make  your- 
self scarce  with  the  money  ?  How  am  I  to 
know  that  you  won't  blow  it  all  in  in  beer 
and  scoot  ?  " 

There  was  a  momentary  silence,  and 
Miss  Dolly  Fitzgerald  turned  from  the 
window  with  a  laugh. 

"  I  think  I  can  guarantee  that  he  won't 
do  that,"  said  she  softly. 

With  one  accord  we  turned  and  stared 
at  her.  Lappin  studied  her  face  with  some 
anxiety,  perhaps  appeal. 

She  came  up  to  Drusilla  with  her  pretty, 
timid  smile. 

"  I  did  n't  know,"  she  said.  "  I  suppose 
you  '11  all  think  I  Ve  been  crying  and  tell- 
ing the  tale  to  take  you  in,  but,  indeed,  I 
have  n't.  I  did  n't  know.  I  thought  he 
was  doing  the  halls  as  Hall  Smilo,  and  I  'd 
never  heard  of  Wallace  Lappin.  I  have  n't 
seen  him  since  the  Choir  dried  up.  I 
really  did  n't  know." 

"The  Choir?"  Drusilla  asked  feebly, 
in 


"Georgie" 

The  comedienne  laughed.  "Madame 
Merillian's  Choir,"  said  she.  "  I  was 
Madame  Merillian — then.  I  Ve  changed 
my  name,  too  —  for  luck." 

She  turned  to  Georgie,  who  had  grown 
very  red. 

"  You  're  a  good  chap,"  she  said. 
"  You  '11  give  us  a  helping  hand,  won't  you  ? 
He 's  as  straight  as  most  of  them,  and  a 
good  deal  straighter  than  some.  He  's 
speaking  the  truth  now.  If  you  start  us, 
/'//  guarantee  that  the  show  will  pay. 
I  'm  a  jolly  good  business  manager.." 

I  gazed  helplessly  at  her  animated  face. 
Her  stupid  eyes  had  grown  keen  and 
practical.  Lappin  nodded  friendly  ap- 
proval, Georgie  stared,  Drusilla  was 
silent. 

The  comedienne  held  out  her  hand  ap- 
pealingly. 

"  It 's  all  true,  dear — every  word  of  it," 
she  said,  "  except  the  clergyman.  That 's 
an  old  wheeze,  and  I  was  sorry  directly  I 
had  used  it.  My  father  kept  a  pub  in 
Exeter,  but  he  burst  up.  He  was  dropped 
112 


The  Humorist 

on,  for  selling  the  kind  of  beer — well,  the 
kind  he  did  sell.  You  do  believe,  me  don't 
you  ?  You  Ve  been  so  nice  to  me,  I  'd 
rather  you  'd  believe  me." 

"  Oh  !  "  Drusilla  took  her  offered  hand 
with  a  bewildered  air.  "  Of  course  I  be- 
lieve you,"  she  said,  her  instinct  to  be 
kind  under  any  circumstances  prompting 
her  words,  "  but  this  man  ? "  She  pointed 
to  Lappin.  "Who  is  he?" 

"  He  is  my  husband,"  said  the  spark- 
ling comedienne,  with  a  sigh. 

ONCE  on  our  way  back  to  Marybeach  and 
Matthew  Arnold,  Drusilla  and  I  looked  at 
each  other  and  laughed.  Then  I  stooped 
to  revenge. 

"  It  is  nice  to  think,"  I  murmured,  "  that 
in  times  of  trouble  our  Georgie  always 
turns  to  us." 

She  flushed. 

"  Don't  be  unkind,  Martin.  Georgie 
really  is — I  do  hope  those  people  won't 
lead  him  into  anything  rash  and  disrep- 
utable. He  always  thought  he  could  sing, 


"Georgie" 

you  know,  and  they  want  a  tenor.  Sup- 
pose— " 

"  Not  he  "  said  I  promptly.  "  Geor- 
gie's  interest  in  the  King's  Own  cooled 
off  when  he  found  the  girl  was  married  to 
the  other  wandering  minstrel.  He  '11  lend 
that  little  ruffian  thirty  pounds,  and  they  '11 
all  vanish  out  of  his  life  forever.  Perhaps 
it  '11  be  a  lesson  to  him.  Young  idiot ! 
Well,  Drusilla,  what 's  the  matter  now  ?  " 
She  was  frowning  anxiously  at  the  sunny 
landscape. 

At  my  question  she  turned  and  sighed. 

"I  am  beginning  to  think,"  said  she, 
"that  perhaps  we  were  not  quite  wise 
in  making  Georgie  Matthew  Arnold's 
god- father.  He  is  so — " 

She  hesitated. 

"Yes,"  said  I,  "he  is." 

And  when  you  come  to  think  of  it,  he 
was. 


114 


1  IV 

The  International 


IV 


The  International 

OME  old  lady  in  a  Welsh  farm- 
house had  promised  a  Persian 
kitten  to  Drusilla,  and  with 
Matthew  Arnold  in  his  mail- 
cart  we  went  to  meet  it  by  the  four  o  'clock 
train  from  Shrewsbury.  Quite  unexpect- 
edly, we  met  Georgie,  too — Georgie  and 
a  travelling  companion. 

"Hallo!"  cried  he,  flinging  his  bag 
down  almost  upon  my  feet.  "  This  is  no 
end  of  luck.  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  old 
chap.  How 's  Drusie  and  the  kid  ?  " 

"They're  here,"  said  I.  "You  look 
well,  Georgie." 

Georgie  sighed  ostentatiously. 
"  Oh,  I  'm  well,"  he  said,  "  in  health;  but 
I  'm  a  bit  worried." 

"Worried?"  I  eyed  the  travelling  com- 
panion with  puzzled  curiosity. 
117 


"Georgie" 

"  Yes.  Oh,  here 's  Drusilla  and  old 
Muffin  face.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  looking 
so  fit  and  beautiful,  Drusie.  I  want — may 
we  come  round  by  the  Little  Mansion  and 
have  some  tea,  as  a  sort  of  break  in  the 
journey,  you  know  ?  The  porter  can  take 
my  bag  home.  I  want  to  have  a  nice,  se- 
rious talk  with  you  and  Martin.  You  '11 
let  us  come,  won't  you  ?  " 

Us!  Drusilla  gazed  in  wondering  si- 
lence at  Georgie  and  his  new  friend.  And 
well  she  might.  Clinging  in  tight  des- 
peration to  his  hand  was  a  little  forlorn- 
looking  boy  in  a  shabby,  tight  sailor-suit 
of  weather-beaten  blue  serge — a  splendid 
little  boy  with  black,  fierce  brows  and  won- 
derful eyes ;  with  a  sulky  scarlet  cupid's 
bow  of  a  mouth  and  a  sun-browned  skin. 
In  his  grubby  hand  he  clutched  tightly  a 
sailor  cap,  flaunting  in  tarnished  gold  let- 
ters the  word  "  Conqueror."  Drusilla 
stooped  and  told  him  he  was  a  dear,  pretty 
boy,  but  he  merely  scowled  at  her  for  the 
attention  with  whole-hearted  disapproval. 

"  Is  n't  he  a  ripping  little  chap  ? " 
118 


The  International 

Georgie  beamed  at  us  both.  "  For  a  five- 
year-old  he 's  no  end  of  a  sportsman.  I  Ve 
been  teaching  him  to  hit  straight,  coming 
down  in  the  train.  See  him  punch  the 
cushions  !  Hits  out  at  'em  like  a  good  'un." 

"  What  is  he  doing  with  you  ?  "  I  asked 
in  some  surprise. 

Georgie's  travelling  companion  was  so 
extremely  young. 

"  Look  at  his  jolly  fat  legs  !  "  Georgie 
hastily  cried,  disregarding  my  question. 
"  Brown,  and  beefy,  and  as  firm  as  a  rock. 
There's  no  flabbiness  about  him" 

He  glanced  as  he  spoke  almost  dispar- 
agingly at  our  son,  who  was  even  then 
stretching  longing  baby  arms  to  his  faith- 
less friend  from  the  mail-cart. 

"  Matthew  Arnold  is  barely  two,"  said  I 
indignantly,  and  Drusilla  looked  hurt. 

Georgie  realized  that  he  had  been 
slightly  wanting  in  tact. 

"  Of  course,  old  Muffin  face  is  immense," 

said  he,   digging  him  in  the  ribs.      "  Best 

little   chap  in  the  world."     But  his  eyes 

quickly  strayed  back  to  his  travelling  com- 

8  119 


"Georgie" 

panion,  and  he  picked  him  up  and  put  him 
on  his  shoulder,  from  which  high  eminence 
the  little  lad  cast  glances  of  pure  fury  at 
the  rest  of  us. 

"  Where  is  his  mother?  "  Drusilla  asked 
gravely. 

"  Hold  tight,  old  man.  We  won't  go 
into  details  till  you  've  taken  us  in  and  fed 
us,"  Georgie  said  firmly. 

It  was  only  ten  minutes'  walk  to  the  Lit- 
tle Mansion,  and  Drusilla  gave  us  tea  in 
the  garden. 

From  Georgie's  knee  the  travelling  com- 
panion took  gulps  of  sweet  weak  tea  out 
of  Georgie's  saucer,  and  with  a  friendly 
absence  of  ceremony,  he  took  small,  fierce 
bites  from  Georgie's  bread  and  butter. 

Between  bites  he  scowled  at  us.  Dru- 
silla could  bear  the  suspense  no  longer. 

"  Georgie,  I  don't  want  to  seem  inquis- 
itive, and  I  shouldn't  like  to  hurry  you, 
but  what  are  you  doing  with  that  very 
cross  little  boy  ?  " 

He  gulped  down  the  remains  of  his  tea 
and  looked  desperately  from  Drusilla  to  me. 
1 20 


The  International 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  "  I  know  you  '11 
say  I  'm  an  awful  ass,  but  I  believe  any 
decent  chap  would  have  done  the  same 
thing." 

"  Oh  !  "  Drusilla  gazed  at  me. 

"  I  was  in  Pwllheli,"  Georgie  began  des- 
perately, "doing  a  bit  of  mackerel  fishing, 
and  it  was  one  day  when  we  could  n't 
whistle  up  a  wind  anyhow.  The  men 
would  n't  take  the  boat  out — could  n't,  in 
fact — and  I  can't  stick  that  dirty  flat-fishing 
business  in  the  harbor,  so  I  just  loafed 
about  the  old  town,  down  in  the  fisher- 
men's quarters,  and  that  was  when  I  first 
saw  old  Taffy." 

"Old  what?" 

He  laughed. 

"Taffy  I  call  him.  He  's  Welsh,  you 
see.  He  was  going  for  a  lot  of  other  little 
lads,  swearing  and  spitting  at  'em  like  any- 
thing in  his  ridiculous  native  tongue. 
They  'd  taken  his  football,  I  think,  and  he 
meant  to  get  it  back.  He  got  it  too,  like 
a  good  'un.  It  was  only  an  old  salmon 
tin,  but  it  was  the  nearest  thing  the  poor 

121 


"Georgie" 

little  beggar  had,  and  the  kicking  instinct 
was  in  his  blood." 

"Georgie,"  said  Drusilla  gently,  "have 
you  stolen  him  from  his  mother,  or  only 
borrowed  him  ?  Is  he  here  on  a  visit  ? 
Do  tell  us  the  awful  truth  at  once.  I  never 
could  bear  to  have  things  broken  gently 
to  me." 

"Well,"  Georgie  looked  confused. 
"  You  'd  better  let  me  go  on  with  my  story, 
had  n't  you  ?  It  would  be  a  pity  if  I  mixed 
things  up  now." 

"  Go  on,"  said  I.  "  Drusilla,  do  you 
think  Matthew  Arnold  ought  to  cut  his 
hair  off  with  the  cake  knife?  He  has  n't 
enough  as  it  is." 

Drusilla,  deeply  occupied  with  Georgie 
and  his  travelling  companion,  saved  her 
precious  in  the  nick  of  time,  and  the  strange, 
wolfish  little  boy  cuddled  up  on  Georgie's 
knee,  nestling  a  sticky,  sulky  face  in  his 
friend's  beautiful  waistcoat.  Georgie  had 
a  weakness  for  wonderful  waistcoats  about 
that  time. 

"  I  thought,"  said  Georgie  dreamily,  "  of 
122 


The  International 

the  trial  game  next  Saturday,  and  I  remem- 
bered my  first  match.  It  is  one  of  the  few 
perfect  memories  of  my  life,  and  when  I 
watched  this  little  chap  kicking  his  absurd 
salmon  tin  up  and  down,  it  seemed  heart- 
rending to  think  that  perhaps  for  want  of 
a  little  care,  a  fine  full-back  was  being  lost 
to  the  county." 

"  What  ?  "  said  I  in  amazement. 

"  Yes,"  Georgie  went  on  gravely,  "  and 
to  the  country  too,  perhaps.  I  've  never 
heard  of  an  international  coming  out  of  the 
workhouse.  Have  you?" 

"The  workhouse?"  Drusilla  glanced 
with  troubled  eyes  at  poor  Taffy,  now  fast 
asleep  and  no  longer  fierce. 

"  Yes,"  Georgie  said  slowly.  "  Skilly 
would  weaken  a  chap's  kick,  don't  you 
think?  His  mother's  dead.  So  is  his 
father ;  fell  off  his  boat  drunk.  This  chap 's 
been  living  with  an  aunt  ever  since." 

"Where  is  the  aunt  now?"  I  asked 
sternly. 

Georgie  rufHed  the  little  boy's  black 
hair. 

123 


"Georgie" 

"She's  ill,"  he  said.  "Cancer.  Old 
lady  can't  last  out  more  than  a  month  or 
two  at  the  most,  the  doctor  told  me.  Poor 
look-out  for  this  chap." 

"The  doctor?" 

"  A  man  in  the  lane  told  me  the  story, 
and  so  I  waited  for  the  doctor  to  see  if  it 
was  true.  It  is — quite.  He  said  she  was 
dying  by  inches.  Young  Evan  Davies,  or 
David  Evans,  I  forget  which,  was  being 
dragged  up  by  any  odd  neighbor  who  hap- 
pened to  drop  in,  and  when  the  aunt  dies 
there 's  nothing  for  him  but  the  workhouse. 
He  took  to  me  at  once." 

"  But,"  said  I  hastily,  "  has  the  child  no 
other  relations  ?  " 

''No,"  Georgie  replied  solemnly,  "at  least 
no  one  who  would  take  him.  Every  one 
seems  to  have  twelve  or  fourteen  kids  of 
their  own,  and  they  say  Taffy  does  n't  get  on 
with  other  children.  He  's  not  popular  at 
school,  I  gather.  It  's  his  high  spirits. 
They  don't  take  to  high  spirits  in  the  work- 
house, I  believe.  Try  to  break  'em." 

Drusilla  broke  the  long  silence. 
124 


The  International 

"  It  's  a  sad  little  story,"  said  she  with  a 
sigh  and  a  pitiful  look  at  the  boy.  "  What 
are  you  doing  with  the  boy,  Georgie  ?  " 

Georgie  was  silent. 

"What  have  you  brought  him  away 
for?" 

"  From  the  workhouse  !  "  Georgie  broke 
out  hotly.  "  Think  of  it !  Have  you  ever 
been  in  a  workhouse,  Drusie?  Would 
you  like  to  think  old  Muffin  face  was  going 
to  be  brought  up  in  a  uniform,  to  a  set  pat- 
tern, on  skilly  ?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
skilly  now,"  I  said  quickly,  "and,  Georgie — 
of  course  it  seems  a  pity,  but  it  is  a  terrible 
necessity,  you  see.  Thousands  of  them 
have  to  be  turned  over  to  the  parish  every 
year.  This  little  man  must  take  his  chance 
with  the  others,  L  am  afraid." 

Georgie  flushed  indignantly  and  moved 
restlessly.  Taffy  grunted  in  his  sleep  and 
buried  his  grimy  face  farther  into  the 
gorgeous  waistcoat. 

"Look  at  him,"  Georgie  said.  "When 
I  saw  him  kicking  his  absurd  apology  for 
125 


"Georgie" 

a  ball  and  giving  the  other  chap  such  a 
thundering  good  licking,  I  seemed  to  see 
'  International '  written  big  all  over  him." 

"  Very  likely,"  said  I  gravely. 

He  looked  up  at  Drusilla  with  a  quick, 
charming,  boyish  laugh.  "It  all  came  to 
me  in  a  flash,"  said  he.  "  I  remembered 
some  one  who  was  always  kind  and  sweet 
to  children.  I  thought  of  you." 

"  Georgie  !  "  Drusilla  laughed  almost 
hysterically. 

His  bright  face  clouded  a  little  at  her 
reception  of  his  outburst.  "Yes,"  he  re- 
peated doggedly,  "I  thought  you  might 
like  to  adopt  him." 

I  was  thunderstruck.  Even  from  Geor- 
gie this  was  overwhelming. 

"  Yes,"  he  went  on  earnestly,  "  I  don't 
suppose  old  Muffin  face  will  ever  be  much 
of  a  sportsman,  and  there's  no  doubt 
about  this  chap.  It 's  written  big  all  over 
him." 

"  Upon  my  word  !  "  I  gasped.  Georgie 
had  surpassed  himself. 

"  You  Ve  always  been  good  friends  to 
126 


The  International 

me,"  he  went  on  persuasively,  turning  in 
ardent  appeal  from  one  to  the  other.  "  I 
don't  think  you  've  ever  quite  understood 
me,  but  as  far  as  you  go,  you  've  stood  by 
me.  And  Drusie  's  as  good  as  gold. 
There 's  no  doubt  about  her  heart.  I 
thought  I  should  like  to  do  you  a  good 
turn  for  once." 

I  gazed  at  Drusilla,  now  weakly  gig- 
gling with  her  face  hidden  in  Matthew 
Arnold's  white  frills,  and  then,  quite 
speechless,  I  met  Georgie's  anxious  blue 
eyes. 

"  Can't  you  see  the  thing  as  it  stands  ?  " 
he  murmured.  "When  you  come  to 
think  of  it,  Martin,  it  would  be  a  pretty 
big  thing  to  have  the  bringing  up  and 
training  of  an  international,  wouldn  't  it  ?  " 

"  It  would,  indeed,"  said  I  firmly  ;  "  much 
too  great  an  honor  for  me.  Far  too  big  a 
thing." 

"Certainly" — Georgie  rather  missed 
my  point — "  you  are  n't  much  of  a  sports- 
man, but  you  might  influence  him  in  other 
ways,  don't  you  think?  Manners,  and 
127 


"Georgia" 

truthfulness,  and  early  rising,  and  little 
things  like  that.  Not  books,  I  should  n't 
let  him  read  too  much ;  seems  to  me  it 
rather  spoils  a  chap.  You  might  have 
been  an  athlete  yourself  if  you  had  n't 
taken  to  ink-slinging  when  you  were 
young  enough  to  know  better.  I  should 
think  you  'd  be  glad  to  adopt  a  chap  like 
this.  Matthew  Arnold  will  never  make 
a  footballer.  I  don't  suppose  you  '11  ever 
get  him  to  do  anything  really  manly.  He's 
sure  to  write,  or  paint,  or  something — 
something  piffling." 

I  wondered    at   Georgie's   methods   of 
persuasion. 

"  I  'm  sorry,"  said  I  grimly,  "  and  it  may 
seem  heartless ;  but  we  can't  adopt  your 
protege,  Georgie.  We  shall  find  it  as 
much  as  we  can  manage  to  provide  for 
Matthew  Arnold's  future,  I  am  afraid. 
And  it  will  take  all  the  earnings  of  my 
piffling  pen  to  keep  the  Little  Mansion 
over  our  three  heads  in  modest  comfort. 
And  as  you  say,  I  am  not  a  sportsman, 
therefore  not  qualified  to  develop  his  young 
128 


The  International 

promise  in  football.  You  had  better  leave 
him  to  the  Welsh  parish.  And  seriously, 
my  dear  boy,  do  think  of  the  risk.  You 
don't  know  what  kind  of  a  scoundrel  his 
father  may  have  been." 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  said  Georgie  shortly.  Evi- 
dently he  did  not  wish  to  enlarge  upon 
the  subject. 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  and  his  mother  was 
probably  a  dishonest  maid-of-all-work, 
who  stole  the  jam  and  lump  sugar  in  sea- 
side lodgings.  Give  it  up,  Georgie." 

Georgie  flung  me  a  glance  full  of 
scorn. 

"Thanks,"  said  he,  "for  your  advice. 
You  're  always  chock  full  of  advice, 
Martin.  A  man  may  be  sure  of  getting 
that  from  you  if  he  gets  nothing  else." 

"In  this  case,"  said  I  coldly,  "it  is  all  I 
have  to  offer  you." 

"  Thanks.  Drusilla — "  he  turned  to 
Drusilla  and  looked  sternly  into  her  rosy, 
anxious  face.  "  Some  day,"  he  said  tragic- 
ally, "you  will  be  sorry  that  you  Ve  turned 
this  poor  little  beggar  out  in  the  cold. 
129 


"Georgie" 

Wake  up,  Taffy,  old  man.    We  've  got  to 
go.  They  don't  want  us  here." 

"  Oh,"  said  Drusilla  uncomfortably,  "  I 
can't  bear  you  to  think  me  horrid,  Georgie  ! 
I  really  should  be  glad  to  do  anything — 
anything  in  reason  for  you.  But  you  know 
you  really  do  do  extraordinary  things, 
don't  you  ?  " 

"  This,"  said  Georgie  sternly,  "  is  thesort 
of  thing  which  shows  up  a  man's  friends  in 
their  true  light." 

Drusilla  grew  red. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  boy ! "  she  said  in  a 
pained  voice.  "  How  can  we  ?  You  know 
we  never  thought  of  adopting  any  one. 
Why  should  we  ?  It  does  n't  seem  neces- 
sary, you  see.  And — why  do  you  call  him 
Taffy?  I  wish  you  would  n't." 

"Taffy  was  a  Welshman,"  he  said  slowly, 
picking  up  the  "Conqueror"  cap  to  hold 
the  elastic  so  clumsily  that  it  flicked  back 
into  the  ruddy,  dazed  little  face  and  made 
the  child  cry  out.  Drusilla  snatched  it 
from  his  hands  and  slipped  to  her  knees 
on  the  lawn  in  a  moment. 
130 


The  International 

"  Oh,  Georgie,  you  've  hurt  him  !  Let 
me  do  it.  Dear  little  lad,  he  's  only  half 
awake." 

She  ruffled  up  his  heavy  hair  with  her 
quick  fingers  and  pushed  his  hat  back  a 
little.  I  suppose  her  glowing  face,  fresh 
and  pretty  and  kind  under  his  slpepy  eyes, 
disarmed  him,  for  he  stopped  crying  and 
smiled  at  her.  She  hugged  him. 

"  He  is  a  darling,"  she  said  with  sudden 
enthusiasm.  "  Really,  when  he  grins  in 
that  delicious  way,  I  don't  wonder  at  you, 
Georgie.  Don't  call  him  Taffy.  Taffy 
was  a  thief,  you  know." 

"  People  never  grow  up  to  fit  their 
names,"  Georgie  said  gloomily.  "  Look 
at  me.  There  's  nothing  solid  and  British 
and  conventional  about  me,  you  know.  I  'm 
not  narrow,  or  conservative,  or  obstinate. 
George  is  a  very  John  Bull  kind  of 
name." 

I  thought  of  a  possible  Georgie,  twenty 
years  ahead,  and  smiled  to  myself. 

But  Drusilla  looked  gravely  from  the 
stern  young  face  to  the  little  boy,  and 


"Georgie" 

back  again,  and  I  was  amazed  to  find  tears 
in  her  absurd  eyes. 

"  I  'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  she  said. 
"  There  was  Saint  George,  you  see.  I 
believe  I  can  see  you  in  armor,  fighting 
dragons,  Georgie,  without  much  of  an 
effort/ 

Occasionally  Drusilla's  imagination 
escapes  from  control  and  paints  her 
friends  in  wonderful  rosy  tints  invisible 
to  me.  And  in  pure,  unadulterated  folly 
Georgie  had  surpassed  himself  that  after- 
noon. 

"  Are  you  going  to  take  the  boy  up  to 
the  Manor  ? "  I  asked  curiously,  for 
Georgie's  mother  was  a  person  with  ideas 
of  her  own  on  most  subjects. 

"  Yes,"  said  he  curtly.  "  My  mother 
has  some  decent  feelings,  and  she  's  fond 
of  children." 

"  She  must  have  been,"  I  said  softly,  "  to 
bring  you  up." 

Georgie  gave  a  disgusted  grunt.  "Any- 
thing cheaper  than  the  general  run  of  your 
jokes,"  said  he,  "I  Ve  never  heard.  Do 
132 


The  International 

you  know  if  Phillida  's   come    back    to- 
day?" 

Georgia's  Goddess  Girl  had  been  visit- 
ing in  the  Midlands,  and  at  last,  I'believe, 
Georgie  and  she  were  formally  engaged. 

"  Yes,"  Drusilla  answered  him.  "  She 
came  back  this  morning  in  time  for  lunch. 
We  are  to  dine  at  the  Manor  House  to- 
night, Martin  and  I." 

Georgie's  look  of  frank  horror  was  re- 
freshing. 

"  Not  a  dinner-party  ?  "  he  asked  aghast. 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  pleasantly.  "There  is 
to  be  rather  a  large  dinner-party,  I  be- 
lieve." 

Without  another  word  Georgie  picked 
up  his  travelling  companion  and  departed. 

Drusilla  looked  at  me  and  laughed : 
she  hugged  Matthew  Arnold  and  laughed 
again. 

"  What  a  boy  !  "  she  cried.  "  Oh,  Martin, 
what  a  boy  !  To  say  my  son  will  never  be 
a  sportsman  !  What  will  his  mother  say 
to  him  when  she  sees  that  cross  little  boy  ? 
And  Phillida — what  will  she  say  ?  " 
133 


"Georgie" 

"  Drusilla,"  said  I  gravely,  "  is  there  any 
rift  in  that  lute  ?  Is  there  anything  wrong 
between  those  two?  Why  did  they  let 
the  Goddess  Girl  go  rushing  off  to  visit  all 
those  dull  people  ?  " 

Drusilla  was  silent. 

"  Georgie's  mother  is  a  darling,"  she 
said  at  last,  "  but  she  has  ideas  about  a 
wife's  duties.  She  thinks  a  woman  ought 
to  be  able  to  cook  the  dinner  she  orders, 
and  get  up  her  own  muslins  and  lace  and 
things,  even  if  she  never  has  to  do  it." 

"  And  the  Goddess  Girl  ? " 

Drusilla  laughed.  "  Objects — or,  rather, 
differs." 

"  A  goddess,"  said  I,  "naturally  would." 

"  Well,"  said  Drusilla  meekly,  "  perhaps. 
But  she  might  have  given  in  and  pretended 
an  interest.  Georgie's  mother  wanted  her 
to  go  into  the  kitchen  and  have  lessons  from 
the  cook,  and  she  refused  flatly.  Said  she 
guessed  she  was  n't  going  to  spoil  her 
gowns  and  finger-nails,  doing  chores.  Said 
if  Georgie's  mother  wanted  a  domestic 
134 


The  International 

treasure  for  a  daughter-in-law  she  must 
look  in  the  next  block.  She  was  n't  ex- 
actly rude,  I  think,  but  a  little  too  firm. 
And  Georgie  thoroughly  agrees  with  his 
mother  about  a  woman's  duties.  He  is 
very  conservative  in  these  things,  I  fancy. 
Phillida  will  have  to  be  careful  if  she  is  fond 
of  him." 

"My  sympathies,"  said  I  firmly,  "are 
entirely  with  the  Goddess  Girl." 

"  Ye-es."  Drusilla  arranged  the  tea- 
things.  "  She  is  lovely — to  look  at,  and 
the  best  company  in  the  world,  but —  " 

"  Well  ?  "     What  more,  I  wondered. 

"  Oh,  rfothing,  only  I  want  our  boy  to 
be  happy.  He  is — well,  he  has  had  dis- 
appointments, has  n't  he  ?  And  he  is  a 
dear  boy.  I  should  like  to  think  some  one 
was  going  to  make  up  to  him  for —  " 

"  For  losing  you  ?  "  I  asked  with  admir- 
able gravity. 

Drusilla  sighed. 

"  I  am  glad  I  put   on  my  pretty  dress," 
9  135 


"Ge'orgie" 

Drusilla  whispered  as  we  went  in,  and  I  was 
glad,  too,  although  I  laughed  at  her  vanity. 

She  wore  something  which  gave  a  gen- 
eral impression  of  plump  pink  rosebuds  in 
a  setting  of  green  leaves,  and  the  drawing- 
room  as  we  went  in  seemed  to  be  running 
alive  with  pretty  girls. 

Georgie's  mother  loved  girls  and  sur- 
rounded herself  with  them  on  every  pos- 
sible occasion  ;  thus  poor  Georgie  was  kept 
by  her  constantly  under  fire.  She  was  a 
delightful  person,  not  very  wise,  but  charm- 
ing to  everybody,  and  she  came  to  meet  us 
with  hearty,  handsome  welcome  from  the 
hearth-rug,  to  leave  the  Goddess  Girl 
standing  alone  in  stately,  silent  magnifi- 
cence. Georgie,  who  ought  to  have  been 
at  her  side,  seemed  to  be  lost  in  earnest 
conversation  with  that  prim  little  fair- 
haired  girl,  Diana  Leigh,  and  there  were 
other  stars  shining  here  and  there,  very 
pleasant  to  the  eye  at  the  time,  but  of  no 
importance  in  this  story.  The  men  were 
the  usual  set,  Georgie's  own  kind,  very 
young,  and  redolent  of  the  goal-post  and 
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The  International 

the  wicket.  There  was  also  that  insuffer- 
able old  nuisance,  Borricole,  who  was  asked 
partly  because  he  was  expected  to  leave 
money  to  Georgie,  and  partly  because  he 
was  able  to  advise  Georgie's  mother  on 
the  various  little  financial  matters  which 
interested  her  so  much.  She  had  a  taste  for 
risky  speculation  in  those  days,  and  I  could 
see,  dearly  loved  to  plunge  a  bit.  I  am 
afraid  that,  like  Georgie,  she  was  not  quite 
as  wise  as  she  was  charming. 

Georgie  crossed  the  room,  and  in  mid- 
flight  I  caught  him. 

"  What  does  she  say  ?  "  I  asked  softly. 

"  Who  ?     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"Why,  your  mother,  Georgie?" 

"My  mother?  "in  actual  bewilderment 
as  to  my  meaning.  Georgie  had  always 
found  it  fatally  easy  to  shut  up  his  anxieties 
in  the  back  cupboards  of  his  mind. 

"  Taffy  !  "  I  reminded  him  curtly. 

His  glowing  face  fell. 

"  Oh,  hang  it,  Martin  !  You  need  n't 
spoil  a  chap's  dinner.  Of  course  I  have  n't 
told  her  yet.  How  could  I  ?  " 

137 


"Georgia" 

"  Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  smuggled  him  in  the  back  way. 
He  's  asleep  in  my  bed.  I  shall  tell  her 
after  this  crowd  's  gone  home.  It  '11  be  all 
right,  I  know." 

But  there  was  no  confidence  in  his 
tone,  and  while  I  talked  to  the  Goddess 
Girl,  glorious  in  a  misty  green  gown  and 
a  wonderful  emerald  necklace,  I  wondered 
a  good  deal  what  the  end  of  this  last  craze 
would  be. 

It  fell  to  my  lot  to  take  down  prim 
young  Diana,  who  was  almost  a  stranger  to 
me,  and  I  had  watched  Georgie  at  his  head 
of  the  table  for  some  time  before  I  noticed 
that  she  was  watching  him,  too,  with  even 
more  intensity. 

With  the  Goddess  Girl  at  his  right  hand 
to  entrance  his  ears  with  piquant  pearls 
of  pure  Virginian,  and  Drusilla  on  his  left, 
to  laugh  at  his  absurd  jokes  and  listen 
sympathetically  to  his  odds  and  ends  of 
youthful  wisdom,  he  ought  to  have  been 
happy.  Obviously,  as  we  passed  from  one 
course  to  another,  he  grew  gay  and  flushed 
138 


The  International 

and  excited,  and  his  end  of  the  table  be- 
came a  very  noisy  one.  There  was  some- 
thing curiously  penetrating  about  the  voice 
of  his  betrothed,  and  something  boisterous 
and  infectious  about  Georgie's  laughter. 

"  He  seems  a  very  cheerful  kind  of 
boy,"  a  fresh  little  voice  at  my  side  volun- 
teered. 

I  turned  to  my  neighbor  and  laughed. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "cheerful  and  most 
absurd.  Georgie's  letting  himself  go  a 
bit  to-night." 

"He  has  been  telling  me  about  his  poor 
little  Welsh  boy." 

I  suppose  I  looked  my  surprise,  for  she 
hastily  went  on : 

"  Oh,  I  Ve  known  Georgie  quite  a  long 
time ;  ever  since  last  winter,  and  I  have 
four  brothers  of  my  own.  Naturally  I  have 
had  a  great  deal  of  experience  with  boys, 
you  see." 

I  looked  at  her,  and  laughed.  She  was 
apparently  just  out  of  the  schoolroom  her- 
self and  her  eldest  brother  was  about 
fifteen.  I  hardly  thought  she  had  had  to 
139 


"Georgie" 

listen  to  such  confidences  as  Georgie's  from 
them.  She  was  an  old-fashioned  little 
girl,  and  I  wondered  rather  where 
Georgie's  outpourings  would  end.  But  she 
was  certainly  pretty.  Her  unusually  pale 
hair  and  dark  brows,  made  one  think  of 
old  miniatures  of  the  powder  days. 

"  Was  n't  it  noble  of  him  to  come  to  the 
rescue  of  the  boy  in  that  splendid,  unselfish 
way  ?  "  she  asked. 

I  hesitated. 

"  Very,"  said  I.  "  Oh,  very  noble  !  But  I 
can't  help  wondering  how  his  mother  will 
like  this  last  proof  of  his  nobility." 

"  His  mother  is  a  darling,"  Diana 
Leigh  said  warmly.  "  She  will  be  glad 
to  save  the  dear  boy.  I  am  sure  any 
person  with  a  heart  would.  Georgie  ought 
to  have  told  her  the  truth  at  once,  though, 
and  I  told  him  so  before  dinner.  It  is 
always  best  to  tell  the  truth  from  the  very 
beginning.  Putting  things  off  is  such 
weakness,  don't  you  think  ?  Such  a  ter- 
rible snare." 

I  surveyed  her  with  some  amusement. 
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The  International 

"Well,"  said  I  at  last,  "there  are  two 
ways  of  looking  at  it,  and  I  can't  help 
thinking  that  it  would  have  been  rather  a 
mistake  to  upset  the  poor  lady  on  the  verge 
of  a  dinner-party.  Georgie  is  n't  often  wise, 
but  in  this  case  I  fancy  that  a  short  delay 
was,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  expedient." 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Diana.  Expedient  is  a 
hateful  word.  I  hate  expediency.  People 
ought  to  do  right  whatever  happens. 
There  are  only  right  and  wrong,  you  see. 
There  are  no  lights  and  shades  where  duty 
is  concerned." 

I  thought  it  was  only  kind  to  respect 
the  opinions  of  rigid  eighteen  without 
attempting  to  disillusionize,  so,  gracefully, 
I  changed  the  subject. 

"  Are  you  looking  forward  to  the  hunt- 
ing ? "  I  asked,  vaguely  remembering 
something  Georgie  had  once  said  of  her 
tastes.  Her  eyes  lit  up. 

"You  bet !"  she  cried,  with  a   sudden 

relapse  into  brotherly  slang.      "  Last  year 

it  was  too  ripping  for  words.    Georgie  used 

to   take  the  most  awful  fences  last   year. 

141 


"Georgie'' 

There  's  a  bull-finch  behind  the  primrose 
pasture  that  would  make  your  hair  curl. 
Georgie  can  ride — he  's  promised  to  tell 
his  mother  about  the  little  Welsh  boy 
directly  after  dinner,"  she  returned  to  her 
subject. 

"Whew!" — I  whistled  in  my  sleeve, 
if  such  a  thing  be  possible,  and  glanced  at 
Georgie. 

"  He  is  not  at  all  the  sort  of  person  to 
break  a  promise,"  Diana  said  with  her 
head  in  the  air 

"  Urn !  "  said  I. 

But  this  last  event  proved  her  right. 
Georgie  walked  boldly  up  to  his  mother, 
holding  her  pretty  court  of  girls  on  the  big 
tiger-skin  hearth-rug,  and  I  followed  up 
closely  across  the  drawing-room  to  see 
and  hear  what  happened. 

" Mother,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "I 
wish  you  'd  come  upstairs  with  me  for  a 
minute  or  two." 

She  turned  a  jolly,  laughing  face  to  him. 

"Oh,  Georgie!  I  can't  come  away 
now." 

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The  International 

"  But  I  wish  you  would,  mother,"  he 
persisted.  "I  want  to  show  you  some- 
thing." 

"  What,  Georgie  ?     Is  it  a  present  ?  " 

I  laughed  softly.  It  might  even  have 
been  dignified  thus,  I  thought,  but  little 
did  she  guess  what  shape  this  new  gift 
of  his  had  taken. 

"  N-not  exactly.  At  least — "  he  paused 
imploringly.  "  Won't  you  come  and  see  ?  " 

"  Can't  you  bring  it  down  and  show 
me?" 

She  lifted  a  pretty  ringed  hand  and 
pushed  the  brown  hair  from  his  damp  fore- 
head. Georgie  flushed  and  cast  a  whimsi- 
cal look  at  me. 

"  Well — hardly,"  he  said  with  an  uneasy 
laugh. 

"  But  why  ?     Can't  you  carry  it?" 

I  turned  away.  This  was  more  than  I 
could  bear  with  gravity. 

Georgie  straightened  his  shoulders. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  with  a  reckless  laugh, 
"  I  think  I  can  carry  it.  You  are  sure 
you  would  like  to  see  it — here  ?  " 


"  Georgie" 

His  mother  smiled. 

"  Why  not?"  said  she.  "  I  'm  not  slim 
enough  to  run  up  and  down  stairs  so  soon 
after  dinner,  Georgie.  So  go  and  bring 
your  present  down,  there  's  a  dear  boy." 

He  went.  I  gasped  and  tried  to  catch 
Drusilla's  eye  for  sympathy,  but  she  was 
entranced  in  the  woes  of  a  misunderstood 
center  three-quarter,  in  a  far  corner,  and 
absolutely  blind  and  deaf  to  her  husband's 
appeals. 

"  Absurd  boy  !  "  With  delighted  pride 
Georgie's  mother  turned  to  me.  "  He 
always  makes  such  a  mystery  over  his  little 
surprises.  He  's  as  bad  now  as  he  was 
when  he  used  to  smuggle  snakes  and 
hedgehogs  into  his  bedroom.  Dear  boy  ! 
The  housemaids  used  to  go  into  fits  when 
they  made  his  bed,  and  found  Georgie's 
curious  pets  amongst  his  blankets.  One 
girl  was  never  quite  the  same  afterward, 
and  I  Ve  been  obliged  to  keep  her  with 
me  ever  since,  doing  light  work  in  the 
kitchen.  He  is  n't  at  all  careful  even 
now." 

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The  International 

Careful !  With  fascinated  eyes  I  stared 
at  the  white  door.  He  seemed  to  be  gone 
hours,  but  at  last  it  crashed  open  and  he 
plunged  defiantly  into  the  midst  of  us,  to 
an  accompanying  murmur  of  astonishment 
and  the  light  laughter  of  girls.  On  his 
shoulder  enthroned  sat  Taffy. 

"  Georgie  !  " 

"  I  've  brought  him,"  said  Georgie 
quietly.  He  put  the  child  down  on  the 
rug  and  faced  his  amazed  mother  with  pale 
and  desperate  courage.  I  hid  behind  the 
Goddess  Girl  and  laughed.  Poor  Taffy 
wore  some  strange  and  wonderful  gar- 
ment of  striped  flannellette  with  many  frills 
of  pink  embroidery  in  his  neck  and  sleeves. 
I  found  out  afterward  that  Georgie 
had  abandoned  his  own  pyjamas  in  de- 
spair and  boldly  borrowed  a  nightgown 
from  a  deeply-interested  parlor-maid.  The 
child's  black  hair  was  ruffled,  his  cheeks 
rose  pink  from  his  sudden  awakening,  and 
his  beautiful  eyes  wide  open,  bewildered. 
The  girls  in  their  pretty  bright  gowns 
crowded  around  us,  and  their  brothers 

145 


"Georgie" 

watched  with  surprised,  amused  faces  over 
their  shoulders.  Georgie  faced  his  mother 
in  pale  silence,  and  I  waited.  Little  Diana 
peeped  from  behind  Drusilla  with  a 
pleased,  excited  face.  It  was  the  Goddess 
Girl  who  broke  the  silence.  If  I  remem- 
ber right,  it  generally  was. 

"  Say  !  "  she  cried.  "  Is  n't  he  just  too 
cute  for  anything?  Whose  little  picca- 
ninny's this,  Georgie?  Do  tell." 

Georgie  cast  a  grateful  glance  at  his 
fiancee. 

"  Georgie,"  demanded  his  mother, 
"  kindly  explain  this — this  apparition  at 
once." 

The  apparition  in  a  sudden  panic  made 
a  step  forward  to  his  protector,  was  at 
once  hopelessly  involved  in  billowing 
folds  of  flannellette  and  fell  headlong  at 
the  feet  of  the  Goddess  Girl.  She  stepped 
back  hastily. 

"  My  !  Is  he  clean  !  "  she  asked  anx- 
iously, for  her  gown  was  a  new  one. 

Georgie  grew  red  and  stooped  suddenly 
to  pick  up  the  boy,  but  he  was  n't  quick 
146 


"Diana  took  poor,  frightened  Taffy  into  her  arms 


The  International 

enough.  Diana  slipped  between  them, 
and  took  poor  frightened  Taffy  into  \her 
arms,  casting  a  look  at  the  Goddess  Girl 
which  ought  to  have  withered  that  young 
woman.  Then  she  sat  down  on  a  little 
stool  at  the  corner  of  the  brass  fender, 
and  Taffy  cuddled  up  against  her  soft  white 
gown,  glancing  ferociously  at  the  rest  of  us. 
He  even  made  a  remark  in  his  native 
tongue  which  sounded  like  a  wizard's 
curse — or  a  heathen  incantation.  The 
Goddess  Girl  smiled  amiably. 

"Guess  you're  fond  of  children,"  said 
she.  "  Those  sticky  little  paws  will  crush 
your  chiffon  some." 

"  Oh  !  "  Diana's  gray  eyes  were  ab- 
surdly indignant.  "  I  Ve  got  brothers  of 
my  own,  and  I  don't  know  how  you  can  !  " 

But  Georgie's  mother,  with  amazed  eyes, 
demanded  explanations,  and  Georgie, 
driven  to  it,  told  his  story.  With  the  deep- 
est interest,  everybody  listened.  When  he 
had  finished,  his  mother  sat  down  and 
laughed  till  the  tears  came  into  her  eyes. 
Everybody  laughed,  and  Georgie,  scarlet 
149 


"Georgie" 

and  excited,  joined  in  the  laugh  against 
himself  and  faced  us  all  from  the  hearth- 
rug, with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  defiant 
and  yet  ashamed. 

"  Georgie,"  said  his  mother,  at  last,  "  you 
take  the  first  train  to  Pwllheli  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  give  back  that  child  to  his  rela- 
tions." 

Georgie  set  his  teeth,  and  I  knew  that 
under  his  breath  he  made  a  good  round 
vow  to  the  contrary. 

"Yes,"  said  his  mother,  "I've  spoilt 
you,  Georgie,  from  the  day  you  were  born, 
but  there  are  limits.  Snakes  are  all  very 
well,  and  even  caterpillars — but  a  boy ! 
When  I  think  of  what  I  went  through  whilst 
I  was  bringing  you  up.  A  boy  !  For  me 
to  adopt !  My  goodness  ! " 

I  did  not  tell  her' then  that  Drusilla  and 
I  had  already  had  the  refusal  of  him.  I 
felt  that  it  would  hardly  have  been  kind 
to  Georgie,  and  a  delighted  chorus  of 
laughter  from  his  friends  made  his  face 
flame  as  it  was. 

But  he  said  no  more.  He  merely  set 
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The  International 

his  teeth,  and  crossed  to  where  Taffy 
scowled  and  nestled  in  Diana's  youthful 
arms.  With  tearful  eyes  she  looked  up  at 
him  ;  a  dainty  Dresden  china  shepherdess 
of  a  girl.  Drusilla  told  me  afterward  that 
the  little  Puritan  whispered  something  to 
console  him,  something  about  doing  the 
right  thing  as  it  came  in  your  way,  how- 
ever hard  it  was.  She  finished  up,  Dru- 
silla told  me,  with  a  reference  to  the 
straight  and  narrow  path,  and  this  unusual 
advice  seemed  to  soothe  and  encourage 
Georgie. 

"  Take  that  child  away  at  once,"  said 
his  mother.  "  My  dear  boy,  you  must  be 
mad  !  He  ought  to  have  been  asleep  hours 
ago.  We  will  discuss  the  matter  more 
fully  in  the  morning.  Diana,  give  him  to 
Georgie.  Really,  without  prejudice,  I 
think  I  never  saw  a  more  disagreeable- 
looking  child." 

Diana  gave  him  up  with  reluctance. 

"  His  head  is  burning,"  said  she  anx- 
iously, "and  his  little  feet  are  like  ice. 
When  Dickie  had  the  measles — " 


"Georgie" 

There  was  a  general  shriek.  Georgie 
laughed  shortly,  and  took  poor  Taffy  from 
the  girl. 

"  Little  chap,"  he  murmured  to  her  with 
a  dejected  laugh.  "  He  '11  play  for  his 
county  some  day.  These  beggars  won't 
jeer  at  him  then.  He  can  kick  now  like 
anything.  Been  practising  on  my  shins. 
You 're  a  brick,  Diana,  but  it's  a  beastly 
hard-hearted  world." 

"  I  've  got  brothers  of  my  own,"  said 
Diana  gravely.  She  was  a  queer  little  lady. 

LOOKING  for  late  roses  for  Drusilla's  table 
the  next  day,  I  heard  a  familiar  shout  from 
the  gate :  Georgie. 

"Come  in!"  I  called. 

"  I  can't.  You  come  here,  Martin.  I 
want  to  speak  to  you." 

In  some  surprise,  I  went  down  the 
path  to  him.  His  face  was  pale,  but  in 
spite  of  his  pallor  he  carried  a  triumphant 
air. 

"Well?"  I  asked  breathlessly. 

"Whew  ! "  said  he,  taking  off  his  hat  to 
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The  International 

let  the  autumn  breeze  cool  his  forehead. 
"  We  Ve  had  a  hot  morning." 

I  laughed.  "  I  rather  thought  you 
would,"  said  I.  "  Come  in  and  tell  Drusilla 
about  it." 

"  No,"  said  Georgie.  "  I  can't.  Little 
chap  's  ill." 

"111?" 

"  Yes.  That  ass  Borricole  came  sniffing 
round  this  morning  and  found  it  out.  Old 
fool 's  a  phrenologist,  or  some  such  rot,  and 
he  wanted  to  feel  the  boy's  bumps  with  a 
view  to  adopting  the  kid  himself.  Thought 
he  'd  like  to  do  me  out  of  his  money,  I  sup- 
pose. I  wish  he  would ;  I  don't  want  his 
ill-gotten  gains,  old  sweep.  He  pinched 
and  prodded  poor  old  Taffy  till  he  roared, 
and  then  told  my  mother  the  child  was  an 
incipient  criminal  of  the  lowest  possible 
type." 

I  laughed. 

"  Poor  little  boy  !  "  said  I.  "I  suppose 
that  put  the  finishing  touch  to  the  affair. " 

"  You  don't  know  my  mother,"  said  he. 
"  She  meant  before  that  to  pack  us  off  to- 
153 


"Georgie" 

gether  by  the  first  train.  If  old  Borricole's 
verdict  did  anything,  it  weakened  her. 
She  does  n't  believe  in  him,  you  see — at 
least,  not  as  a  phrenologist.  He  examined 
me  when  I  was  a  youngster,  and  told  her 
I  should  grow  up  a  dreamy,  thoughtful 
scholar :  sort  of  Miss  Nancy,  don't  you 
know.  My  mother  was  furious,  and  now 
she  always  believes  the  exact  opposite  of 
what  he  tells  her — of  people's  char- 
acters." 

"  You  say  the  boy  is  ill  ?  " 

Georgie's  face  lengthened. 

"  Borricole  noticed  how  flushed  he  was, 
and  pulled  his  mouth  open,  as  if  he  'd  been 
a  puppy  or  a  horse.  Said  his  tonsils  and 
larynx  were  inflamed.  I  don't  suppose  he 
knows  anything  about  it,  but  old  Taffy  bit 
at  him  like  a  good  'un.  Made  him  yell,  I 
can  tell  you.  Borricole  said  he  was  a 
little  devil — told  my  mother  he  was  sicken- 
ing for  something  catching,  and  fled  the 
scene.  We  Ve  sent  for  the  doctor,  but  he 
has  n't  come  yet,  and  I  thought  I  'd  come 
round  and  tell  you  to  keep  away.  I 
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The  International 

should  n't  like  old  Muffin  face  to  run  any 
risks." 

"Thank  you,"  said  I.  "I  shouldn't 
have  expected  so  much  forethought.  Let 
me  know  the  verdict." 

Georgie  rooted  up  a  tuft  of  grass  with 
his  stick. 

"  I  noticed  that  the  poor  little  chap  tossed 
about  a  good  deal  in  the  night,"  said  he, 
"  but  I  thought  that  might  be  the  usual 
thing  in  a  five-year-old.  How  was  I  to 
guess  it  meant  a  temperature?  When 
you  come  to  think  of  it,  it  was  rather  awk- 
ward— my  plunging  him  into  the  middle 
of  all  those  people  last  night." 

I  thought  uneasily  of  Drusilla  who 
had  hugged  him — of  our  baby,  who  had 
been  hugged  by  Drusilla  directly  after- 
ward. 

Georgie,  however,  chuckled. 

"  They  '11  all  be  in  fits  for  a  fortnight," 
said  he,  "waiting  for  their  rashes  to  come 
out.  Serve  'em  right." 

"  What  about  you  ?  "    said  I. 

"  Oh,  I  'm  all  right !  "  he  answered 
155 


"Georgie" 

lightly.     "  I  've  had  everything  over  and 
over  again." 

"And  the  Goddess  Girl?  How  does 
she  like  the  idea  ?  " 

Georgie's  face  fell,  and  he  looked  away 
across  the  fields. 

"Girls,"  said  he,  "are  curious  things. 
It 'sail  off  with  Phillida." 

"  Off?  "  I  asked  in  surprise.     "  What  ?  " 

"  Our  engagement.     She  's  off  too." 

"  Georgie ! " 

"Yes,"  said  Georgie,  "by  the  midday 
train.  Refused  to  see  me  at  all,  and  left  a 
note.  Says  she 's  only  one  complexion 
and  means  to  keep  it.  Says  she  does  n't 
mean  to  begin  housekeeping  with  a  ready- 
made  family.  Says  she  's  been  thinking 
things  over,  and  on  the  whole  she  does  n't 
consider  that  Englishmen  make  enough 
fuss  of  their  wives.  Says  she  likes  the 
Yankee  style  of  husband  best." 

"  Poor  old  chap."     I  had  plenty  01  real 
sympathy  for  a  man  who  had  possessed 
the  Goddess  Girl — and   lost    her.     "  I  'm 
very  sorry,"  said  I  earnestly. 
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The  International 

Georgia's  eyes  on  the  distant  horizon 
were  dreamy. 

"  Well,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I'm  not  sure. 
A  woman  should  be  womanly.  Don't  you 
think  so,  Martin  ?  " 

But  the  labyrinth  of  Georgie's  affections 
was  beyond  me,  and  seeing  that  no  more 
was  forthcoming  I  sent  him  home. 

At  night  he  came  again  in  the  lowest 
spirits. 

"  Diphtheria !  "  cried  he  from  the  other 
side  of  the  lane. 

I  whistled.     "  Poor  little  chap  !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  he  slowly.  "  They  rammed 
in  anti-toxin  at  once,  but  he 's  very  ill. 
Temperature 's  up  like  anything." 

"  Who 's  nursing  him  ?  " 

Georgie's  face  lit  up. 

"  Why,  my  mother.  She  's  splendid. 
Turned  every  one  out  of  the  room  and  put 
an  apron  on.  The  doctor  wanted  to  wire 
for  an  ambulance  to  have  him  carried  off 
to  the  hospital,  but  she  won't  hear  of  it. 
Says  it  brings  back  me  and  the  measles, 
and  she  's  not  going  to  let  the  child  go  for 

157 


<<Georgie" 

a  four-mile  drive  with  a  temperature  like 
that.  Says  she  's  going  to  fight  the  beastly 
thing  for  all  it  's  worth.  Little  Diana 
Leigh  wanted  to  stay  and  help  to  nurse. 
Shes  not  afraid  of  infection.  She  's  nursed 
her  brothers  through  everything,  and  likes 
it." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  I.  I  was  beginning  to  see. 
His  enthusiasm  was  enlightening. 

"  They  won't  let  her,  of  course,  but 
she  '11  stay  in  the  other  part  of  the  house 
till  there  's  no  fear  of  infection  for  her 
brothers.  She 's  a  jolly  good  sort." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  I  again. 

"  Yes."  Georgie  blushed  and  went 
away,  promising  to  let  me  have  news  the 
first  thing  in  the  morning. 

When  the  news  came  it  was  bad.  In 
the  afternoon  it  was  worse.  But  not  till 
Sunday  morning  did  I  understand  how 
thoroughly  the  difficulty  as  to  the  disposal 
of  poor  Taffy  had  melted  away. 

Alas  for  Georgie's  International ! 


158 


V 

The  Scarlet  Runner 


The  Scarlet  Runner 

UTSIDE  in  the  drive,  the  Scar- 
let Runner  snorted  and  puffed 
and  grunted,  thirsting,  no 
doubt,  for  Georgie  to  come 
and  begin  his  devil-may-care  pro- 
gress home  across  the  county.  But  in- 
side the  hall,  little  Diana  Leigh,  who  held 
for  the  moment  Georgie's  susceptible 
heart,  was  holding  as  well  his  two  hands 
and  begging  him  not  to  go. 

"Oh,  Georgie,"  she  said  sadly,  "if  you 
really  cared,  you  would  stay  with  me 
every  moment  you  could  spare  ;  you  would 
do  everything  I  asked  you  to  do ;  you  would 
give  up — " 

"  No,"  said  Georgie  firmly,  "  you  don't 
understand.     You  think  it 's  because  I  'm 
not  in  love  with  you.     I  love  you — fright- 
fully— and  I  ought  to  know  what  love  is." 
161 


"Georgie" 

"  Yes."  Diana  was  looking  wistfully  into 
the  fire.  She  had  let  his  hands  go  by  this. 
"  You  have  had — experience,"  said  she. 

She  knew  how  many  times  he  had  lost 
his  heart,  and  there  were  no  illusions  in 
her  own.  But  she  was  fond  of  him  and 
meant  to  keep  him  if  she  could.  There 
would  be  an  end  to  fancies  some  day,  she 
supposed,  when  Princess  Fortunate  came 
along,  and  it  might  be  that  she — 

"  I  don't  think,"  said  Georgie  hotly, 
"  that  because  a  fellow  has  had  fancies  for 
other  girls — and  got  over  them — I  don't 
think  you  ought  to  fling  it  in  my  face  as 
you  do.  It  is  n't  nice  of  you,  when  you 
know — " 

She  looked  up  at  him  as  he  stood  there, 
tall  and  young  and  handsome ;  his  long, 
shapeless  coat  giving  extra  width  to  his 
shoulders.  She  looked  up  and  laughed  a 
little. 

"  And  what  do  I  know,  Georgie  ?  " 

He  drew  her  to  his  side  on  the  oak  seat 
in  the  chimney  nook.  They  had  been 
left  discreetly  alone. 

162 


"  Di,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "when  I 
saw  you  first  at  the  meet,  riding  that  devil 
of  a  horse  as  if  you  were  part  of  him — " 

"Thank  you,"  said  she. 

"By jingo — I — those  others  might  never 
have  lived,  don't  you  know.  A  man  can 
tell  when  he  meets  the  only  woman  in  the 
world,  thank  God !  I  never  saw  a  girl  sit 
a  horse  as  you  do — and  such  a  horse  ! " 

"Then  Georgie — "her dark  eyes  met 
his  squarely,  "if  you  care  so  much,  can't 
you  understand  that  I  aske.d  this  favor  of 
you — because — because — " 

"Yes,  dear?" 

"  Because  I  care,  too.  There  was  a 
man  killed  last  winter  quite  near  here  in  a 
Rugby  match — kicked  on  the  temple,  I 
believe.  Don't  play  !  Oh,  Georgie,  it 's 
because  I  love  you  so  that  I  implore  you 
not  to  play." 

Georgie  moved  uncomfortably  in  his 
seat,  and  from  the  Scarlet  Runner,  wait- 
ing more  and  more  impatiently,  there  came 
a  hoot  of  derision. 

"What  on  earth   is  that  fool  William 
163 


"Georgie" 

doing  with  the  motor?"  said  he.  "If  you 
loved  me,  you  'd  want  me  to  be  happy. 
It's  my  first  season  with  the  county — and 
only  my  second  match.  Why,  even  my 
mother  would  n't  dare  to — " 

Diana  sighed. 

"  Mothers  are  used  to  giving  up,"  she 
said  quietly.  "  And  she  's  had  you  always 
till  now.  Mothers  expect  to  sit  at  home 
and  wait  for  telegrams  and  tremble  at 
every  ring  of  the  bell.  They  are  broken  in 
to  anxiety,  but  I  am  not.  I  'm  young, 
you  see,  and  I  have  n't  learnt  to  bear  sus- 
pense. Even  when  the  boys  play — oh,  I 
can't  bear  it." 

Georgie  turned  and  faced  her  grimly. 

"  Di,"  he  said,  "you  are  simply  absurd. 
You  are  n't  consistent.  The  percentage 
of  people  who  are  hurt  in  football  is  tiny — 
tiny — compared  with — with  hunting,  for 
instance — or  motoring." 

The  Scarlet  Runner  snorted  indignant 
dissent  and  Diana  shook  her  head. 

"  I  don't  believe  there 's  any  danger  to 
you  from  the  motor  now,"  she  said.  ''  You 
164 


The  Scarlet  Runner 

understand  it  too  well,  and  when  you  hunt, 
I  'm  there  too.  Danger  is  n't  like  danger 
when  one  can  see  what 's  going  on,  do  you 
think  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Georgie.  "I  think  you're 
absurd — that 's  what  I  think.  What  do 
you  suppose  /feel  like  when  I  see  you  ca- 
reering along  on  that  mad  red  Irish  horse 
of  yours?  And  I  don't  forbid  you  to  ride 
him.  That's  because  I  'm  not  selfish." 

"  Perhaps  it 's  because  you  don't  care," 
she  cried  quickly. 

"  Diana!" 

"  Oh,  well,  don't  be  indignant,  Georgie. 
You  do  care  I  know,  in  your  way.  But 
it's  not  quite  my  way,  you  see.  And  I 
want  you  to  give  up  football  for  my  sake. 
The  highest  pleasure  one  can  have  is  the 
pleasure  of  sacrifice." 

"  Don't  see  it,"  he  said  shortly.  "  Can't 
go  back  on  the  club  at  such  short  notice 
for  a  rotten  reason  like — " 

"  Georgie ! " 

He  held  out  his  hand,  his  lips  tightly  set. 

"  Good  night,  Di.  I  wish  you  were  go- 
165 


"  Georgie 


ing  to  watch  the  match.  You  'd  enjoy  it 
and  forget  my  danger"  He  laughed  and 
held  her  hands  in  his,  bending  to  kiss  her. 
She  drew  back. 

"Georgie — what  time  does  the  train 
leave  to-morrow  ?  " 

"Twelve  o'clock.  Lunch  on  the  train. 
Kick-off  at  three " ;  he  beamed  with  de- 
light at  the  idea.  "If  this  weather  holds, 
it  '11  be  a  ripping  game.  We  '11  give  those 
mountaineers  beans." 

"  Of  course,"  Diana  flushed  a  little. 
"  Georgie — if  you  don't  start  till  midday — 
it 's  only  three  hours  run  across — why  do 
you  go  to-night?  Can't  you  stay  and 
have  early  breakfast  ?  You  could  start  at 
half-past  seven  and  have  heaps  of  time." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"Near  thing,"  said  he.  "Too  much  a 
touch  and  go.  I  should  like  to  stay  aw- 
fully, but  I  could  n't  leave  it  so  late.  Too 
risky.  If  I  missed  the  train,  I  should  let 
the  team  down  and  ten  to  one  lose  my 
place  in  the  county  altogether.  It's  sixty 
miles,  you  know." 

1 66 


The  Scarlet  Runner 

"  What 's  sixty  miles  to  the  Scarlet  Run- 
ner ?  "  she  asked  persuasively. 

He  hesitated  and  looked  longingly  at 
the  great  red  fire — at  the  glow  it  cast  on 
Diana's  hair  and  pleading  eyes.  Through 
the  hall  door,  waiting  ajar  for  him,  a  gust 
of  keen  wind  rushed  to  dissuade  him. 
The  Scarlet  Runner  was  for  the  moment 
speechless. 

"  Do  the  sporting  thing,  Georgie." 

"It's  not  a  sporting  thing  to  let  the 
county  lose  a  match  because  they  have  n't 
got  another  full-back,  and  their  own  man 
fails  them  at  the  last  minute." 

"  You  never  fail  people,"  she  said,  "  in 
your  games." 

He  regarded  her  with  a  suspicion  which 
reluctantly  changed  to  admiration. 

"It's  a  beastly  cold  night,"  he  mur- 
mured. 

She  rose  and  laughed. 

"  Ah,  do  stay.     You'll  enjoy  the  run  in 
the  morning.     It'll  make  you  fit  for  the 
match.   Stay,  Georgie,  stay.    Don't  refuse 
everything  I  ask  you — " 
167 


"Georgie" 

Georgie  stayed.  Diana's  young  brothers 
were  in  bed.  Diana's  parents  dozed  in  the 
drawing-room.  For  two  hours  she  talked 
to  Georgie  by  the  hall-fire  of  many  things; 
of  love  a  little;  of  Diana  a  little;  of 
Georgie  and  Georgie's  interests  and  occu- 
pations a  good  deal.  To  her,  of  course, 
they  were  quite  enthralling  because  she 
was  in  love  with  him ;  and  for  him  to  be 
beside  her,  confiding  his  boyish  and  ath- 
letic dreams  was  still  rapture.  It  was  one 
of  Georgie's  charming  ways  to  make  you 
feel  that  you,  out  of  the  whole  world, 
were  quite  the  only  one  to  whom  he  had 
chosen  to  unlock  his  heart;  the  only 
one  who  ever  had  understood,  or  been 
asked  to  understand  the  deep  and  sacred 
recesses  of  his  soul.  Diana  felt  the  delicate 
flattery  of  this  most  keenly. 

"  There  is  n't  another  full-back  in  the 
north,  just  now,"  he  said  modestly.  "  Chaps 
are  getting  old,  and  crocked,  don't  you  see, 
and  there  are  n't  any  young  ones  coming 
on—" 

"  Except  you,  Georgie." 
1 68 


The  Scarlet  Runner 

"Well,  I  'm  not  much  catch.  It 's  just 
my  luck  to  be  playing  well,  when  they 
want  a  man  so  badly.  I  'm  not  a  safe 
player,  you  see,  but  I  make  a  splash  some- 
times and — " 

"  You  don't  funk,"  she  said  proudly, 
with  boyish  slang. 

"  Of  course  not ;  but  I  don't  really  think 
I  'm  worth  my  place — at  least — "  He 
stopped  and  laughed. 

"Well,  Georgie?" 

"  I  must  be  some  good,"  he  said  softly, 
"  because  the  Northern  Union  have  been 
at  me." 

"No?" 

"  Yes,  followed  me  to  Ingraham.  Bloated 
publican-looking  man  with  a  wonderful 
waistcoat  approached  me  yesterday  at  the 
inn.  They  call  it  approaching,  I  believe. 
He  did  n't  stay  long." 

"  But—" 

Georgie  laughed  again. 

"  Offered  me  two  quid  a  week  and  fifty 
down  ;  then  called  for  a  drink — for  me — " 

"  What  did  you  do,  Georgie  ?  " 
169 


"Georgie" 

"  Why — well,  I  was  in  the  devil's  own 
rage,"  he  confessed  frankly.  "  I  poured 
the  whiskey  on  to  the  floor  over  his  beastly 
brown  boots,  and  told  him  candidly  what 
I  thought  of  him  and  his — his  dashed 
union." 

"  Well  ?  "  her  face  fell  a  little  at  his  free 
language. 

"  He  did  n't  like  it  much.  I  told  him  pro- 
fessionalism was  the  curse  of  sport  and  the 
ruin  of  the  country,  and  I  said  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  Northern  Union  could 
knock  spots  off  everyone  else  for  black- 
guardism. I  said  if  he  came  near  me 
again  with  his  beastly  bribes,  he  'd  find 
himself  unexpectedly  taking  his  first  cold 
bath — in  the  river !  " 

"  Georgie  ! " 

"Yes,"  said  Georgie  pleasantly,  "  I  'm 
afraid  I  did  rather  let  myself  go,  but  I 
apologized  to  him  in  the  end.  I  told  him 
that  my  remarks  had  no  personal  meaning, 
and  I  supposed  he  only  did  this  sort  of 
thing  because  he  had  n't  the  brain  to  earn 
his  living  decently.  I  asked  him  to  come 
170 


The  Scarlet  Runner 

over  and  see  us  play  to-morrow.  Told 
him  it  would  be  a  nice  change  for  him  to 
see  a  little  honest  football." 

"  Poor  fellow !  Georgie,  do  you  think 
we  ought  to  judge  others  so — Don't  you 
think  you  were  rather — " 

"  Ugh  !  "  Georgie  shuddered.  "  It  made 
me  sick  to  look  at  the  brute.  It  is  n't  a  bit 
better  than  the  old  days  before  the  Union 
when  the  unsophisticated  collier  found  a 
sovereign  over  night,  in  his  unprofessional 
boots." 

"What  did  he  say?"  Her  voice  was 
quiet. 

Georgie  smiled. 

"  Well,  he  said  a  good  deal.  He  was 
saying  it  after  me  all  the  way  down  the 
street.  But  I  was  in  the  Scarlet  Runner, 
and  did  n't  stop  to  listen  to  his  sayings." 

Diana  gazed  at  him  with  eyes  full  of 
love  in  spite  of  her  disapproval.  The 
glasses  through  which  she  saw  Georgie 
must  have  been  extremely  rose-colored, 
for  in  spite  of  his  engaging  ways,  no  girl 
had  ever  before  followed  his  athletic  ravings 
171 


"Georgie" 

with  such  breathless  interest.  He  felt  this, 
and  took  advantage  of  it. 

They  went  upstairs  presently  to  tell 
her  mother  that  he  had  changed  his  mind 
and  was  going  to  stay  the  night  after  all. 
The  Scarlet  Runner  was  ignominiously 
put  to  bed  in  a  coach-house,  and  Georgie 
dreamed  of  the  match,  and  played  his 
Northern  opponents  furiously  all  night 
with  a  brilliant  personal  success.  Diana 
dreamed  a  revolving  dream  of  gold  and 
rose-color,  with  Georgie,  freely  festooned 
with  texts,  as  a  central  figure,  and  she  got 
up  two  hours  earlier  than  usual  to  pour  out 
his  coffee  for  him. 

"  Mr.  George  has  gone  out  to  bring 
his  motor  car  round,"  a  maid  volun- 
teered as  she  came  downstairs ;  and 
Diana  warmed  herself  over  the  breakfast- 
room  fire  and  wished  that  the  match 
were  over. 

It  was  twenty  minutes  past  seven  before 
Georgie  came  in,  and  he  did  n't  attempt 
to  kiss  her  or  even  to  say  "  good-morn- 
ing." His  face  was  red  and  hot-looking, 
172 


The  Scarlet  Runner 

and  his  blue  eyes  held  a  hard  look  entirely 
new  to  her. 

"  Where  is  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  looked  surprised. 

"Where  is  what?  And  are  n't  you 
going  to  say  good-morning  ?  You  have  n't 
much  time  for  breakfast,  but  I  Ve  poured 
out  your  coffee  and —  " 

"Thanks, "he  said  curtly.  "Where  is 
the  Scarlet  Runner  ?  " 

"The  Scarlet  Runner?"  She  stared  at 
him  blankly. 

"  Yes.  For  goodness'  sake,  Di,  tell  me 
at  once.  We  must  start  at  the  half-hour. 
Where  on  earth  have  you  had  the  thing 
put?" 

"  Georgie !  Is  n't  it  in  the  coach- 
house ?  " 

"  No,"  Georgie  said  curtly.  "  Curiously 
enough,  it  is  n't.  It  has  vanished  in  the 
night.  Di — don't  be  a  little  goose.  Tell 
me  where  the  motor  is,  and  I  '11  bring  it 
round  to  the  door  before  I  have  my  break- 
fast." 

Her  face  was  white. 

173 


"  Georgia  " 

"  Georgie !  I  have  n't  the  least  idea 
where  it  is.  William  must  have  —  but 
William  does  n't  understand  it,  does  he  ?  " 

" William,"said  Georgie,  shortly,"  swears 
he  has  not  been  inside  the  coach-house 
since  he  was  there  with  me.  And,  as  you 
say,  he  could  no  more  manage  the  Scarlet 
Runner  than  he  could  fly.  No  one  can, 
except  you — and  I  almost  wish  I  had  n't 
taught  you  now  !  " 

"But  Georgie — " 

"  The  time,"  Georgie  remarked  moodily, 
"  is  going.  It  generally  does.  I  shall  have 
to  go  off  without  breakfast  as  it  is,  and  I  'm 
half  famished.  Give  it  up,  Diana.  It 
is  n't  a  funny  joke." 

Diana  swallowed  a  lump  in  her  throat. 

''  I  am  not  much  inclined  for  jokes  this 
morning,"  said  she  quietly.  "  I  have  not 
seen  your  motor.  I  know  nothing  at  all 
about  it.  I  '11  go  out  and  speak  to 
William." 

William,  leaning  for  support  against  the 
coach-house  door,  shook  his  head  feebly. 

"  I  would  n't  touch  one  o'  them  hinformal 

174 


The  Scarlet  Runner 

machines  for  a  fortune,"  said  he.  "  I  'd 
be  afraid  of  it  blowing  up  and  brasting  me 
an'  it.  An'  I  would  n't  cross  Mr.  George 
for  a  month's  wage.  He 's  a  way  with 
'is  fists  when  he  's  crossed  that  makes  you 
think  twice  afore  you  cross  'im.  I  can't 
tell  where  'is  horrible  hengine's  got  to. 
The  devil  come  through  the  winder  and 
flew  away  with  'is  own,  I  should  n't 
wonder." 

She  looked  into  the  other  out-buildings 
hopelessly  and  at  the  key  in  William's 
hand. 

"  Where  do  you  keep  the  key  ? "  she 
asked. 

William  looked  injured. 

"In  my  trousie's  pocket,"  said  he ; 
"  and  there  it 's  bin  since  last  night." 

"Did  you  go  anywhere  last  night  after 
we  went  in  ?  " 

William  drew  himself  up. 

"  Not  a  blessed  drop,"  said  he,  "  since 
Saturday." 

She  turned  miserably  to  Georgie,  who 
laughed  unpleasantly. 

175 


"Georgie" 

"  Georgia,"  she  said,  "  I  can't  make  it 
out.  Perhaps  father  knows —  " 

Her  father,  however,  sent  down  word 
emphatically  that  he  did  not  know.  He 
was  not  pleased  to  be  waked  up. 

Georgie  in  the  hall  faced  Diana  with  a 
determined  face. 

"  You  told  me  last  night,"  he  said 
slowly,  "  that  you  would  give  anything  to 
persuade  me  not  to  play  to-day.  I  sup- 
pose this  means  that  you  have  taken  the 
law  into  your  own  hands.  I  suppose  this 
brilliant  plan  is  to  stop  me  playing  this 
afternoon.  It  is  a  quarter  to  eight  now. 
There  is  no  train  quick  enough  to  do  it, 
even  if  you  were  on  the  line." 

Dickie,  her  young  brother,  on  the  stairs 
called  out  with  friendly  sympathy : 

"  Take  the  dog- cart,  Georgie." 

Georgie  looked  up. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  he,  "  you  can  persuade 
your  sister  to  tell  you  what  she 's  done 
with  my  motor." 

Diana  flushed. 

176 


The  Scarlet  Runner 

"  Georgie,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  I 
don't  tell  lies." 

He  turned  from  her  angrily  and  went 
round  to  the  stables  again.  In  a  few 
minutes  he  drove  the  cart  round  to  the 
front  of  the  house,  and  Dickie  jumped  in. 

Diana  came  up  to  the  horse's  head. 

"  Take  Lucifer,  and  ride!  "  she  said,  swal- 
lowing her  anger. 

"  Thank  you.  I  've  seen  that  red  devil's 
pretty  ways  with  a  stranger.  I  shall  drive 
into  Ingraham  and  try  to  hire  or  borrow  a 
motor  somehow,  and  then  perhaps  if  I 
drive  like  —  " 

"Georgie!  You'll  have  an  accident, 
if  you  go  in  a  strange  car."  She  was  very 
white. 

"Yes,"  said  he  grimly,  "it'll  be  a  bit 
more  dangerous  than  county  foot  ball  at 
the  pace,  but  if  I  'm  not  pulled  up,  I  '11 
catch  that  train  somehow — and  Diana — " 

"  Yes,"  a  low  voice. 

"  It's  the  sort  of  thing  a  woman  should 
never  do,  if  she  cares.  It's  the  sort  of 
177 


"Georgie" 

thing  a  man  does  n't  get  over,  or  forget 
It 's  the  sort  of  thing  —  " 

Diana  lost  her  temper  at  last. 

"  It's  the  sort  of  thing  which  makes  a 
man  forget  he  's  a  gentleman,"  said  she. 
"  If  the  prospect  of  missing  your  game  is 
the  sort  of  thing  to  make  you  go  away  like 
this  —  thinking  and  calling  me  a  —  a 
liar  —  " 

He  gathered  up  the  reins  impatiently, 
and  she  caught  her  breath. 

"  Why,  then  you  need  n't  come  back, 
Georgie,"  she  said. 

IN  a  couple  of  hours  Dickie  was  back 
again.  Red  -eyed,  Diana  came  down  from 
her  room  to  demand  his  news. 

"  Georgie  was  wild,"  he  said  frankly.  "  I 
did  n't  know  he  had  such  a  beastly  temper. 
But  it 's  enough  to  make  a  chap  furious. 
He  drove  Peggy  at  a  gallop  all  the  way  to 
Ingraham,  and  I  thought  she  'd  be  down 
on  her  knees  every  minute.  My  hat,  we 
did  whiz  along !" 

"Well,  Dickie  — well?" 
178 


The  Scarlet  Runner 

"We  tried  to  hire  a  car  all  over  the 
show.  There  are  only  four  in  the  town, 
and  Dr.  Winnett  had  taken  his  on  his 
rounds.  Old  Leather  would  have  lent  us 
his,  but  his  uncle  had  been  out  over  some 
new  stones  the  day  before,  and  busted  the 
tires.  The  parson  would  n't  lend  his,  of 
course.  Said  he  made  a  rule  never  to 
lend  a  fountain  pen,  or  a  bicycle,  or  a 
motor  car  on  account  of  the  other  person's 
feeling  so  bad,  if  anything  happened. 

"  Well,  Dickie  ?     Do  get  on." 

"  Do  you  suppose  anyone 's  prigged  the 
Scarlet  Runner ?"  Dickie  asked.  "It's 
a  rum  go." 

"ZWhe  find  one?" 

"Well,"  said  Dickie,  "Old  Tubbs,  at 
the  White  Dragon  's  just  bought  one  — 
second-hand.  It 's  called  the  Pearl  of  the 
Ages,  or  something  like  that,  and  he  lets 
it  out  on  hire." 

"  I  see  —  and  Georgie  hired  it.  Thank 
goodness ! " 

"  You  need  n't,"  said  Dickie  promptly, 
"  'cause  you  're  not  so  jolly  clever  as  you 
179 


"Georgie" 

seem  to  think.  It  had  n't  come,  although 
Tubbs  has  been  expecting  it  every  day  for 
a  month  !  " 

She  looked  bewildered. 

"Then  —  " 

"  Outside  the  sweetshop,"  said  Dickie 
impressively,  "what  should  we  see  but  a 
lovely  bran  new  car  —  olive  picked  out 
with  white  —  a  fair  treat.  Georgie  just 
looked  at  it,  and  then  up  and  down  the 
street.  There  was  n't  a  soul  to  be  seen  ; 
the  shops  had  hardly  begun  to  open.  He 
said  to  me  very  quietly,  '  Dickie  I  '11  leave 
you  five  pounds.  It 's  all  I  can  spare. 
I  'm  going  to  commandeer  this  car  for  the 
day.'" 

"Dickie!" 

"Well,  "said  Dickie,  "I  told  him  he 'd 
jolly  well  find  himself  in  gaol  if  he  did  n't 
look  out.  But  he  took  no  notice.  Said 
the  honor  of  his  county  was  at  stake,  and 
he  'd  honestly  pay  for  the  thing 's  hire. 
Said  he  knew  the  silly  owner  would  n't 
give  his  consent  if  he  asked  him  for  it,  and 
so  he  should  jolly  well  take  it  without. 
1 80 


The  Scarlet  Runner 

Told  me  to  give  up  his  address  and  the 
five  pounds  when  he  was  well  out  of  the 
way,  and  then  he  asked  me  if  I  funked  the 
owner's  wrath.  Of  course  I  said  I  did  n't. 
I  said  I  thought  it  was  a  giddy  lark,  and 
so  it  was." 

His  sister  was  speechless.  Dickie  went 
on : 

"He  got  in  and  began  to  turn  the 
thing's  silly  handles.  He  tried  and  tried, 
but  it  must  have  been  quite  different  from 
his  own,  for  nothing  happened.  Georgie 
got  redder  and  redder,  and  at  last  he 
sat  quite  still  and  gave  it  up." 

"  Oh,  Dickie — what  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  He  said  'Damn  ! '  "  said  Dickie  earn- 
estly. "  And  then  the  swing  door  of  the 
shop  swung  open,  and  the  owner  came 
out!" 

"  Dickie  !  " 

"  Yes,  it  did ;  with  Georgie  sitting  there 
saying  it.  I  don't  wonder  she  was  sur- 
prised." 

"She?" 

"  Yes,  it  was  a  girl.  A  pretty  sort  of 
181 


"Georgie" 

girl,  with  hair  all  fluffy  and  one  of  those 
silky  veil  things  making  you  think  how 
much  you  'd  like  her  face  if  you  could 
see  all  of  it." 

"  Oh  ! — and  she  was  angry  ?  " 

He  thought  a  moment. 

"More  surprised  than  angry.  When 
Georgie  explained,  she  laughed.  I  never 
saw  a  girl  laugh  like  that  girl  did.  And 
Georgie  told  her  everything." 

Diana's  heart  throbbed  with  a  sickening 
pang. 

"  Oh — he  told  her  everything?  " 

"  Yes, — and  said  all  the  nice  things  he 
could  to  bring  her  round  and  make  her 
lend  it  to  him,  and  show  him  the  way  to 
work  it." 

-Oh,  he  did,  did  he?" 

"  Yes.  He  told  her  he  could  see  by  the 
way  she  laughed  that  she  was  a  real  sports- 
man. He  told  her  that  hers  was  the 
prettiest  little  motor  he  had  ever  seen, 
and—" 

"  Did  she  let  him  have  it,  Dickie  ?  "  Her 
voice  was  pitifully  earnest. 
182 


The  Scarlet  Runner 

Dickie  laughed. 

"When  he'd  finished  saying  things, 
she  was  quite  quiet  for  a  minute  ;  then  she 
looked  straight  up  into  Georgie's  face,  and 
he  smiled  at  her." 

"  Oh  !  "  in  a  miserable  voice.  "  He  smiled 
at  her." 

"  The  girl  seemed  to  like  the  way  he 
smiled.  She  jumped  straight  into  the  car, 
laughing  like  anything.  '  If  I  'm  a  sports- 
man,' she  said,  '  I  '11  do  the  sporting  thing. 
I  '11  drive  you  myself.' ' 

He  stopped. 

"Well  ?  "  Diana  asked  breathlessly. 

"That's  all,"  Dickie  finished  abruptly, 
and  went  downstairs,  the  banister  way. 

"  She  must  have  been  very  badly  brought 
up,  to  drive  all  that  way  with  a  complete 
stranger."  Diana  returned  to  her  room 
with  an  aching  heart.  She  was  very  young 
and  she  didn't  understand.  Her  brothers 
were  little  boys,  and  she  knew  nothing  of 
young  men ;  so,  because  Georgie  had 
spoken  rudely  and  unkindly  to  her,  she 
threw  herself  on  her  bed  and  cried. 

183 


"Georgie" 

Presently  her  mother  came  up  to  her, 
and  the  poor  child  between  sobs  told 
everything.  She  was,  in  fact,  glad  to 
tell. 

"  He  wants  to  marry  me,"  she  finished 
piteously,  "and  he  doesn't  believe 
my  word.  He  says  he  loves  me,  and  he 
speaks  to  me  as  if  I  were  a  dog  because 
there  is  a  chance  of  his  missing  a  football 
match.  Oh,  mother,  I  told  him — I  told 
him  not  to  come  back.  I  'm  afraid — oh, 
I  'm  afraid  he'll  think  I  meant  it." 

"  Georgie  is  only  a  boy,"  her  mother  said 
wisely,  "  and  his  games  are  the  most  im- 
portant thing  in  the  world  to  him  just 
now.  He  will  come  back  to-morrow,  and 
say  he  is  sorry.  I  am  quite  sure  he  will 
come  back.  He  will  never  think  vou 
meant  it." 

So  Diana  dried  her  tears  and  went  down 
to    make  inquiries   about  the    motor-car. 
She  caught  Dickie,  in  fits  of  laughter  in' 
the  hall. 

"  Why  did  n't  Georgie  tell  the  police  in 
Ingraham  ?  "  she  asked  indignantly. 
184 


The  Scarlet  Runner 

"I  told  him  to,  but  he  said  he  didn't 
think  it  was  necessary.  I  believe  he 
thought  you  had  hidden  it,  Di." 

She  flushed. 

"You  seem  very  much  amused,"  she 
said  shortly. 

"  If  you  go  into  the  coach-house,"  Dickie 
cried,  "  I  '11  bet  my  boots  you  '11  be 
amused,  too." 


AND  on  Sunday  afternoon  Georgie  came — 
glowing  and  triumphant.  Diana,  in  her 
prettiest  frock,  received  him  quietly. 

"  Did  you  see  an  evening  paper?  "he 
cried.  "We  won  by  eleven  points.  It 
was  a  ripping  game.  I  Ve  got  my  place 
now,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  I  'm  so  glad."  Diana  was  standing  by 
the  window  of  the  library,  which  had  been 
left  to  them. 

He  came  up  and  put  his  arm  round  her 
with  a  laugh  which  sounded  as  if  he  might 
be  a  little  ashamed. 

"  Di — I  was  a  brute  yesterday.  I  was 
185 


"Georgie" 

mad,  I  think.   I  'm  so  sorry   I   spoke  like 
that." 

He  waited,  but  she  did  n't  speak. 

"  You  see  I  had  to  catch  that  beastly 
train." 

"  Yes,"  said  she  quietly. 

"  Di,  I  know  you  only  did  it  because 
you  did  n't  want  me  to  be  hurt.  I  ought  to 
have  remembered  it  was  because  you  were 
fond  of  me — I  ought  to  think  myself  lucky 
you  cared  so  much.  And  I  do,  of  course, 
only—" 

"  Georgie  !  "  She  turned  and  looked 
straight  at  him.  "  Do  you  still  think  I 
lied  to  you  ?  " 

He  looked  surprised. 

"Well,"  he  said  lightly,  "a  practical 
joke  is  n't  exactly  a  lie,  is  it?  It 's  all  right 
now,  dear,  is  n't  it?  " 

"Not  quite,"  said  she  gravely.  "Do 
you  know — did  they  tell  you  that  the 
Scarlet  Runner  came  back  last  night  ?  " 

Georgie  smiled. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I   rather  expected  it 
would,  don't  you  know  ?  " 
186 


The  Scarlet  Runner 

She  put  her  two  hands  on  his  shoulders. 

"  I   had  nothing  to  do  with   its    going 
away,"  said  she.    "  Look  in  my  face   and 
tell  me  that  you  believe  me — " 

He  stared. 

"  I  won't  marry  you,  Georgie,  if  you 
can't  trust  me." 

His  face  changed,  and  then  at  last  he 
understood  how  much  in  earnest  she  was. 
Georgie  was  not  very  quick. 

"Good  Kitty!  Why  on  earth  didn't 
you  say  so  before  ?  " 

She  smiled  sadly. 

"Did  n't  I  ?  You  believe  me  now  ?  " 

"  Di ! "  His  voice  was  indignant.  "As 
if  I  could  doubt  your  word  for  a  moment. 
You  ought  n't  to  ask  such  a  thing  !  "  But 
indignation  changed  to  bewilderment. 
"  But  the  motor  ?  When  on  earth—" 

She  took  a  small  scrap  of  note-paper 
from  her  hanging-pocket  and  handed  it  to 
him  silently. 

"This  was  pinned  to  the  Scarlet  Run- 
ner's cushions,"  said  she,  "when  we  found 
it  in  the  yard." 

187 


"Georgie" 

With  amazed  eyes  he  opened  and 
read : 

DEAR  SIR, — 

Re  your  invitation  to  watch  you  play  this 
afternoon.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  it  will  be 
impossible  for  me  or  anyone  else  to  do  the  same. 

Re  your  insults  of  yesterday  to  me  and  pro- 
fessional football,  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of 
borrowing  your  motor  for  the  day,  and  return 
it  with  thanks.  I  also  borrowed  the  key  of  the 
coach-house  from  the  groom  William,  having 
just  treated  him  to  four  large  whiskies.  As 
manager  of  a  motor- works,  I  was  quite  at  home 
in  your  little  car. 

Trusting  it  did  not  inconvenience  you, 
Believe  me, 

Yours,  etc., 

THE  BORROWER. 

Georgie  grew  crimson — then  he 
laughed. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  should  like  to  meet 
him  in  a  lonely  lane.  Perhaps  I  did  let 
myself  go  a  bit  when  he  made  his  offer. 
But  I  got  there,  and  we  won  the  match. 
Nothing  else  matters." 
188 


The  Scarlet  Runner 

"No,"  said  Diana  rather  sadly.  "As 
you  say,  nothing  else  matters.  And  the 
girl  who  drove  you,  Georgie — was  she 
nice?" 

"  Oh,  that  girl ! "  he  said  coolly.  "  She 
was  n't  much  catch.  Would  talk  about  her- 
self all  the  time.  Narrow,  don't  you  know. 
I  do  hate  selfishness." 


189 


VI 

The  Gladiators 


VI 


The  Gladiators 

EY'VE  come  up  from  the 
Midlands  taking  everything 
before  them  and  they  've  got 
such  jolly  swelled  heads  by 
this  time  that  they  think  themselves  in- 
vincible." 

"  Who  ?  "  said  I  dreamily.  I  was  not  a 
footballer,  and  I  happened  at  the  moment 
—  inconsiderately  no  doubt  —  to  be  think- 
ing of  other  things. 

"  Why  these  puffed  up  Gladiators/' 
Georgie  explained  indignantly.  "  Con- 
ceited brutes  ! " 

"  Can't  you  beat  them  ?  "     I  asked. 
Georgie  stood  up  with  his  back  to  the 
fire,  and  his  candid  brow  wrinkled  to 'a 
frown. 

"That's  the  devil  of  it,"  said  he  sadly. 
"We've  no  team  just  now.     Craig's   in 
193 


"Georgie" 

Germany  at  his  beastly  chemistry,  and 
Cockram  's  had  his  head  bashed  in.  The 
town  's  never  had  a  weaker  set  of  backs, 
and  the  forwards — well!  Two  of  'em 
funked  last  week  against  that  Yorkshire 
club.  They  're  not  reliable,  Martin,  and  I 
can't  spread  myself  all  over  the  field  at 
once.  They  '11  just  wipe  the  ground  with 
us." 

"  You  had  such  a  strong  team  at  Christ- 
mas," said  I,  trying  to  show  a  friendly  in- 
terest I  was  far  from  feeling. 

Georgie  flung  himself  moodily  into  a 
chair  and  stroked  his  close-cropped 
hair. 

"We  had  the  Linnet  then,  you  see," 
said  he  quietly. 

"  And  what 's  become  of  him  now  ?" 

His  blue  eyes  clouded. 

"Did  n't  you  know?  Poor  devil  went 
off  his  chump.  His  father's  a  Manchester 
shipper  and  he  sent  the  Linnet  out  to 
South  America  to  sell  rags  for  his  beastly 
firm.  He  had  fever  twice  in  Ecuador, 
and  then  got  a  touch  of  sun  in  Chili.  He 
194 


The  Gladiators 

seemed  all  right  at  first,  but  after  a  bit  he 
got  a  nasty  kick  on  the  head  and  began  to 
get  dangerous.  He  laid  out  a  Wesleyan 
Minister  at  Chester  station.  The  Parson 
had  a  brown  box,  and  poor  Jimmy  thought 
he  was  the  muleteer  he  had  had  in  the 
Andes,  and  accused  him  of  stealing  his 
sample  trunks.  They  locked  him  up  after 
that. 

"  Poor  chap,"  said  I. 

"Yes,"  said  Georgie  sadly.  He  was  a 
good  sort.  We  had  no  end  of  a  time 
together  before  he  took  that  cursed  trip. 
There  was  a  football  tour  in  the  Mid- 
lands—" 

He  stopped  to  smile  to  himself — at  some 
utterly  disgraceful  memory  no  doubt. 

"The  last  time  I  saw  him,"  he  said 
slowly,  "  he  was  standing  in  the  High 
Street  without  his  coat  —  December,  you 
know,  and  beastly  cold  —  asking  a  police- 
man to  put  him  on  a  car  for  Valparaiso." 

"  Is  he  shut  up  ?  "  I  asked. 

Georgie  flushed. 

"Yes,  a  beastly  shame    too.      He's  in 

195 


«  Georgie  " 

a  kind  of  private  asylum  ;  Gaythorpes  Hall 
they  call  it,  and  he  got  no  exercise  at  all 
till  his  father  made  a  fuss.  They  Ve  got 
a  covered  asphalt  tennis  court  now,  but  he 
was  always  too  much  of  a  sportsman  to 
tootle  about  at  tennis  with  a  lot  of  girls. 
Might  as  well  have  given  him  a  battledore 
or  a  hoop.  Martin,  that  chap  was  the 
finest  tackier  I  've  ever  seen  !  And  as  for 
his  fielding !  If  he  'd  been  all  right  we 
could  have  made  a  jolly  good  stand  against 
these  beggars  even  if  they  licked  us.  As 
it  is—" 

He  groaned  and  words  failed  him. 

"  I  'd  rather  cancel  the  match,"  said  he 
earnestly.  "  After  our  record  !  We  shall 
lose  by  at  least  thirty  points.  But  the 
other  chaps  are  as  keen  as  they  can  be. 
They  've  too  much  blooming  self-con- 
fidence. '  Fight  a  good  fight  for  the  honor 
of  the  town  '  sort  of  idea,  don't  you  know. 
There's  too  much  bally  esprit-de-corps 
about  our  club,  and  I  can't  make  'em 
realize  what  a  thundering  good  licking 
we  're  going  to  get." 

196 


The  Gladiators 

"  That  kind  of  spirit  goes  a  long  way 
towards  victory,  does  n't  it  ? "  I  asked 
mildly.  "I  thought  you  yourself — " 

Georgie  moved  impatiently. 

My  kind  's  different,"  said  he  quickly. 
"  It 's  a  higher  sort.  Mine  makes  me  sick 
to  think  of  the  way  they  're  going  to  wipe 
the  ground  with  us.  There  's  esprit-de- 
corps  and  esprit-de-corps  !  And  I  've  got 
the  sense  to  know  when  we  're  out-classed. 
The  score  will  play  old  Harry  with  our 
season's  record." 

"  I  see." 

"  And  it  '11  discourage  the  new  members. 
There  are  some  very  promising  chaps 
coming  on  for  next  season,  and  it  damps 
off  beginners  like  anything  to  be  badly 
beaten.  Discourages  'em  like  old  boots. 
I  'd  give  a  good  deal  to  see  Jimmy's  old 
mug  amongst  us  on  Saturday." 

"  Is  he  too  bad  to  play  ?"  I  asked  in- 
cautiously. 

Georgie  brought  his  tilting  chair  down 
with  a  crash  and  stared  at  me. 

"  By  Jove  !  "  said  he. 
197 


"Georgie" 

"  Of  course  he  is,"  I  cried  hastily.  "  I 
was  n't  thinking  of  what  I  was  saying. 
Poor  boy— it  is  a  pity." 

Georgie's  thoughtful  look  made  me  un- 
easy. 

"  Can't  you  get  anyone  down  to  play 
for  you  ?  "  I  asked  hastily  changing  the 
subject.  "  Why  not  write  to — " 

"  Do  you  suppose  they  guard  'em  very 
carefully  in  those  places  ? "  he  asked 
slowly. 

"  Naturally,"  said  I.  "  He  will  be  un- 
der constant  supervision." 

"  I  suppose  one  could  n't  get  him  out  by 
bashing  a  warder,  or  chucking  a  rope-lad- 
der up  to  his  window  ?  "  he  asked 
eagerly. 

I  grew  seriously  alarmed. 

"  Georgie  !  Don't  think  of  such  an  in- 
sane thing.  If  the  poor  lad  is  violent,  it 
would  be  most  wrong  to  attempt  to  get 
him  out,  and  grossly  unfair  to  the  authori- 
ties. Besides,  I  don't  for  a  minute  sup- 
pose you  could  do  it.  You  don't  even 
know  that  he  would  come."  This  again 
198 


The  Gladiators 

was  very  unwise  of  me.  I  ought  to  have 
known  better  than  to  dare  Georgie  to 
anything. 

"Ah,"  said  Georgie.  "That's  where 
you  slip  up.  It  would  be  a  giddy  lark  to 
try,  if  it  was  nothing  else,  and  if  you  think 
the  Linnet  would  n't  jump  at  the  chance  of 
playing  in  a  ripping  good  match  again, 
you  're  jolly  well  mistaken." 

"  Look  here,  Georgie,"  I  began  anxi- 
ously. But  he  interrupted  me. 

"It  would  be  rather  a  good  plan  to  go  and 
visit  him — just  you  and  me — and  perhaps 
you  could  even  manage  it  by  exchanging 
clothes  with  him.  Make  up  to  look  sandy, 
don't  you  know.  You  need  only  stay  there 
till  the  match  was  over,  and  it  would  n't 
matter  what  they  said  about  it  afterwards. 
What  do  you  think  ?" 

I  was  horrorstruck. 

"  I  think,"  said  I  firmly,  "  that  your  own 
brain  is  going  and  that  you  had  better  join 
him  in  his  padded  cell.  That's  what  / 
think." 

"  But  just   look  at  it   in   a   reasonable 
199 


"  Georgia  " 

light,"  murmured  he.  "  People  have  done 
much  more  unpleasant  things  than  that 
for  their  countries  and  relations  and  things. 
Surely  you  can  do  a  little  unselfish  thing 
like  this  for  the  credit  of  the  town.  A  real 
sportsman  would  jump  at  the  chance.  I  'd 
do  it  myself  if  I  was  n't  wanted  so  badly 
on  the  field." 

"  I  daresay,  said  I  calmly,  "  and  I 
never  pretended  to  be  a  sportsman.  To 
begin  with  such  a  disguise  would  n't  de- 
ceive an  infant.  Linwood  is  a  good  four 
inches  taller  than  I  am  and  broad  in  pro- 
portion. His  eyes  are  light  and  mine 
dark.  You  must  be  mad." 

"  You  would  n't  have  called  it  mad  if 
you  'd  suggested  it  yourself,"  said  he 
shortly.  "  You  don't  like  anyone  else  to 
have  brilliant  ideas.  I  Ve  noticed  that  be- 
fore." 

I  gasped.  When  I  am  away  from 
Georgie,  I  often  wonder  why  it  is  that  we 
tolerate  his  rudeness  at  all.  His  per- 
sonal charm  must  be  pretty  strong  to  make 
us  pass  over  these  candid  speeches  of  his. 
200 


The  Gladiators 

No  one  can  excuse  him  on  the  ground  of 
not  meaning  them,  for  he  is  essentially 
single-minded.  At  the  moment  Georgie 
means  literally  everything  he  says. 

"  When  you  came  in,"  I  said  coldly,  "  I 
was  up  to  the  eyes  in  a  most  important 
chapter  of  '  The  Lost  Columbine.'  If  you 
have  nothing  more  to  say,  suppose  you 
leave  me  to  it." 

Indeed  I  was  thinking  all  through  his 
discontented  talk,  of  that  crowning  piece 
of  delicate  poetical  word-painting.  Even 
as  he  broke  in,  the  dryad  was  find- 
ing my  Columbine  crying  in  the  wood 
over  the  fallen  statue  of  the  little  stone 
Cupid.  Half  hidden  in  the  long  dank 
grass,  it  had  that  moment  caught  her 
eye.  She  had  taken  it  to  her  heart 
and  the  dryad,  hearing  her  sobs,  was  com- 
ing towards  her  through  the  beech  trees. 

My  heart,  too,  was  in  the  beechwoods, 
and  for  Georgie  to  come  blithering  about 
his  football  woes  at  such  a  moment  was — 
oh,  infernal.  And  all  my  polite  attention 
was  to  be  repaid  with  insult. 
201 


13 


"Georgie" 

"  Get  out,  Georgie,"  said  I,  "  and  for 
heaven's  sake  let  me  do  my  work." 

"  Anyone  would  think  you  'd  be  glad  to 
be  cheered  up,  and  have  your  mind  taken 
away  from  your  beastly  old  book,"  he  said 
as  he  took  himself  off. 

The  next  day  but  one,  however,  he 
came  again,  and  this  time  wildly  exultant. 

"  A  determined  strong-willed  chap  can 
do  anything  in  the  world  if  he  makes  up 
his  mind  and  goes  straight  for  what  he 
wants." 

"Very  often,"  said  I  mildly.  "What 
have  you  done  ?  " 

"  What  I  meant  to  do,"  said  Georgie. 
"Your  discouragement  was  all  I  wanted 
to  buck  me  up  to  the  point.  There  's  noth- 
ing like  a  little  cold  water  to  pull  one  to- 
gether if  one  feels  slack,  and  for  the  real 
genuine  article  straight  from  the  crystal 
spring,  I  Ve  only  got  to  come  to  you. 
There 's  never  any  reflection  for  the  want 
of  it  here." 

"  Did  you  throw  a  rope  ladder  up 
through  the  asylum  window  ? "  I  asked 
202 


The  Gladiators 

with  some  interest.  "  Did  you  send  a  note 
in  to  him  hidden  in  a  loaf  of  bread  ?  Or  a 
file  in  the  golden  heart  of  a  pat  of  butter  ? 
Is  he  going  to  tear  up  the  bedclothes  and 
let  himself  down  from  the  window,  or  shall 
you  burn  the  house  to  the  ground  and 
trust  to  his  escaping  in  the  agitation  of 
the  moment  and  the  smoke  from  the 
smouldering  rafters  ?  " 

"  Go  it."  Georgie  tilted  back  my  oak 
chair  (a  habit  I  loathe)  and  lit  a  pipe.  He 
had  taken  a  dislike  to  cigarettes  lately, 
and  pipes  had  come  in  for  him,  as  his  elab- 
orate waistcoats  went  out. 

"  When  you  Ve  finished  scintillating, 
I  '11  tell  you  all  about  it.  You  're  too 
funny  to  live  this  morning." 

"What  have  you  done?"  I  asked 
meekly.  I  could  see  Drusilla  through  the 
v  window,  putting  Matthew  Arnold,  all  scar- 
let cloth  and  brown  fur,  into  the  mail-cart, 
and  I  wanted  to  go  out  with  them  and  see 
if  the  frost  was  likely  to  hold.  I  did  not 
share  Georgie's  anxiety  as  to  the  fitness 
of  the  ground. 

203 


"Georgie" 

"  What  have  you  done  ?•"  I  asked. 

"  Yesterday,"  Georgie  said,  "  I  went  to 
Gaythorpes  to  see  the  Linnet.  I  got  a 
pass  from  his  father,  and  went  boldly  in  to 
see  him.  He's  as  sane  as  I  am." 

"  Impossible,"  said  I  gravely. 

"  You  need  n't  hint  things."   He  flushed. 

"  He 's  as  sane  as  you  if  you  like  it  bet- 
ter, and  he  's  simply  dying  for  a  game. 
His  piffling  asphalt  tennis  and  badminton 
have  kept  him  in  form  lately,  and  he  thinks 
he 's  in  a  convalescent  home  for  his  liver. 
He  says  most  of  the  other  chaps  are  inebri- 
ates— see  things,  don't  you  know,  and  his 
fancying  that,  was  the  only  queer  thing 
about  him.  The  doctor  's  a  jolly,  hearty 
old  beggar,  and  the  assistant  is  quite  a  de- 
cent chap.  He  s  the  man  who  keeps  up 
the  athletics  in  the  place,  and  he  played 
for  Guy's  when  he  was  walking  the  hos- 
pitals. He  's  no  end  of  a  sportsman.  It 's 
a  fine  old  place  kept  up  just  like  an  ordi- 
nary country  house,  and  they  Ve  a  ripping 
little  stage  in  the  recreation  room.  I  don't 
believe  the  poor  devils  have  half  a  bad 
204 


The  Gladiators 

time.  I  didn't  care  for  the  matron — 
thought  she  had  shifty  eyes,  don't  you 
know,  but  I  don't  suppose  that 's  her  fault. 
It  must  be  awfully  difficult  to  look  straight- 
forward, when  you  're  always  on  the  watch 
and  expecting  the  patients  to  give  you  the 
slip. 

"  Linwood  looked  splendidly  well.  He 
seemed  as  jolly  as  anything.  The  first 
thing  he  did  was  to  ask  me  about  the  club. 
Wanted  to  know  who  was  playing  centre 
now,  and  I  told  him  we  'd  never  had  a 
man  who  was  worth  his  salt,  since  he  went 
away.  He  was  pleased.  I  was  jolly  glad 
I'd  gone  when  I  saw  how  it  cheered  him 
up  to  know  what  a  lot  of  rotters  we  'd 
had  for  backs  lately." 

"Too  much  blooming  esprit-de-corps," 
I  repeated  dreamily. 

Georgie  flushed. 

"  Poor  chap,  you  can't  expect  him  to  be 
sorry  he's  missed,"  said  he,  "he's  only 
human  after  all.  And  we  shall  never  have 
a  centre  three-quarter  in  the  town  to  touch 
him.  I  told  him  about  the  Gladiators,  and 
205 


"Georgie" 

you  should  have  seen  his  eyes  blaze.  He 
said  he  'd  give  everything  he  'd  got  to 
come  over  for  the  afterncon,  and  help  us 
to  give  them  beans." 

"  Poor  lad,"  said  I  compassionately.  "  I 
wonder  if  he  will  ever  be  quite  well 
again." 

"He's  well  now,"  Georgie  said  dog- 
gedly. "  And  even  if  he  is  n't  I  Ve  a 
theory  about  him." 

"Well?"  said  I  doubtfully,  for  I  had 
little  faith  in  Georgie 's  theories. 

"  You  know  they  said  that  it  was  a  kick 
on  the  head  which  turned  him  silly  in  the  first 
place,  and  it  seems  to  me,  that  if  he  had  the 
luck  to  play  in  a  match,  and  get  kicked 
again  in  the  same  place,  it  might  make 
him  quite  well  again.  What  do  you 
think?" 

"  I  think  it 's  a  wild  improbability,"  said 
I  slowly. 

"Well,"  Georgie  went  on,   "it  was  the 

junior  doctor  who  was  with  us  when  we 

were  talking,  and  he  got  quite  keen  about 

the  match.     He  said  he  would  persuade 

206 


The  Gladiators 

the  head  doctor  to  let  him  bring  the  Linnet 
over  on  Saturday,  and  that  if  everything 
—  his  health  and  so  on  —  seemed  favorable 
he  would  let  him  play.  He  said  he  felt 
quite  strongly  how  much  the  honor  of  the 
town  was  at  stake  ;  said  that  he  knew  one 
of  the  Gladiators  personally  :  a  blithering 
ass  who  was  at  Guys  with  him,  and  he 
thought  nothing  would  ever  give  him  such 
pure  unadulterated  pleasure  as  to  see  the 
starch  thoroughly  taken  out  of  him.  He 's 
no  end  of  a  sportsman." 

"He  must  be,"  I  said  meekly.  "Of 
course  he  knows  his  business,  but  it  seems 
to  me  a  bit  risky.  Suppose  Linwood  gets 
one  of  his  violent  fits  on  the  ground  ?  Sup- 
pose —  " 

"  Oh,  you  're  an  old  woman."  Georgie 
went  home  in  disgust. 

I  could  n't  help  feeling  that  under  the 
circumstances  Linwood  was  more  likely  to 
lose  the  game  for  them  than  to  win  it, 
but  I  went  wisely  back  to  my  "  Lost 
Columbine  "  and  forgot  him. 

•         •         •         •  • 

207 


"Georgie" 

ON  Sunday  morning  when  Drusillawas  in 
church  and  I  was  left  alone,  with  Matthew 
Arnold,  rampant  and  much  starched  on  my 
Vicuna  rug,  Georgie  plunged  in  and  at 
the  sight  of  his  face  I  remembered  the 
match  and  guessed  the  result. 

"  Come  here,  old  Muffin  face."  He 
picked  the  boy  up  and  collapsed  with  him 
into  the  most  comfortable  chair  in  the 
room. 

"You  Ve  come  to  tell  me  all  about  it," 
I  said  patiently.  Indeed  I  was  really 
pleased  to  see  him  then  and  to  feel  that 
the  responsibility  of  Matthew  Arnold 
would  now  be  divided.  "  Did  the  Gladi- 
ators turn  up  ? "  I  asked  in  a  tone  of 
friendly  interest. 

Georgie  carefully  took  his  pocket  knife 
away  from  his  young  friend  and  laughed. 

"  I  should  think  they  jolly  well  did," 
said  he.  "  My  hat !  Martin,  you  should 
have  seen  'em  stripped.  Not  an  ounce  of 
superfluous  flesh  on  one  of 'em.  They  were 
a  hefty  lot.  Directly  I  saw  'em  I  guessed 
we  should  have  a  sultry  time.  And  we  did." 
208 


The  Gladiators 

"  Linwood  did  n't  turn  up,  of  course  ?  " 
said  I. 

Georgia  laughed. 

"That's  where  you  slipup,"  said  he 
quietly. 

"  What  —  was  he  there  ?  "  I  really  was 
surprised. 

"He  was  very  much  there.  The  doctor 
was  there  too.  He  is  a  decent  chap.  Said 
he  'd  brought  his  bag  with  him  in  case  any 
of  our  fellows  cried  off.  Said  he  wanted 
to  meet  Gummery  on  the  field  of  battle 
once  more  for  the  sake  of  old  times. 
Gummery  was  the  Guys  man,  and  he  was 
playing  full  back  for  the  visitors.  He  was 
the  leanest  beggar  I  ever  saw,  and  directly 
the  Linnet  came  into  the  pavilion  he  edged 
up  to  him  and  began  to  talk.  The  poor 
devil  seemed  to  fascinate  him,  and  I  'm  sure 
I  don't  know  why,  for  he  looked  just  like 
anyone  else.  Kept  on  asking  him  rotten 
questions.  You  'd  have  thought  he  was 
madder  than  Linwood.  I  tried  to  keep 
him  off,  but  it  was  no  go.  And  then  the 
Linnet  began  to  get  angry  and  lie  to  him. 
209 


"Georgie" 

I  'd  have  done  the  same  myself.  Beastly 
cheek !  Fancy  asking  a  chap  when  he 
was  dressing  for  an  important  match  if  he 
was  fond  of  music  !  " 

Georgie  ruffled  Matthew  Arnold's  hair 
indignantly.  I  laughed. 

"  I  should  think  it  was  unusual,"  said  I. 
"  How  did  Linwoodtake  it?" 

Georgie  smiled. 

"  Played  up  like  a  good  'un.  Said  he 
was — passionately,  and  told  him  the  tri- 
angle was  his  favorite  instrument.  You  'd 
have  thought  that  would  shut  him  up,  but 
the  fool  went  on  and  asked  him  next  what 
he  did  to  keep  so  fit.  The  Linnet 
eyed  him  over  and  his  eyes  began 
to  glitter.  Then  he  told  him  a  whole 
lot  of  utter  rot.  Said  he  lived  the 
simple  life,  and  went  out  at  three  every 
morning  for  a  dew-bath.  Said  he  made  a 
point  of  eating  nothing  but  grape  nuts  and 
bananas,  and  that  he  always  wore  sandals 
and  celluloid  shirts  in  warm  weather. 
Gummery  was  quiet  then  for  a  bit,  but  I 
could  see  he  kept  on  watching.  I  never 
210 


The  Gladiators 

was  in  such  a  state  of  horrible  suspense  in 
my  life.  I  can  tell  you  I  was  jolly  glad 
when  we  got  out  of  the  pavilion  onto  the 
field." 

"About  the  match,"  said  I,  gently  urg- 
ing him  to  the  point. 

"  It  was  a  curious  game ;  "  Georgie 
chuckled  at  the  memory.  "  But  the  anxiety 
was  so  awful  that  I  could  n't  enjoy  it.  We 
won  the  toss  and  played  with  a  slight  wind. 
The  Gladiators  had  a  big  Cambridge  for- 
ward and  he  led  off  with  a  fine  kick  right 
over  to  Linwood.  It  was  like  my  luck. 
He  mulled  the  catch  and  let  the  beastly 
ball  bounce  from  his  chest  bang  on  to  the 
toes  of  their  pack.  It  was  awful.  I  dived 
for  it,  but  I  knew  at  once  that  I  'd  mis- 
judged the  distance.  Their  forwards  got 
there  before  me ;  kicked  it  past  me,  and 
were  arguing  about  who  'd  scored  the  try 
before  I  knew  where  I  was. 

"  Our  captain — Rogers,  you  know — 
looked  at  that  wretched  Linnet,  but  I  'm 
glad  to  think  he  did  n't  say  what  he  was 
going  to,  when  he  saw  the  agony  in  the 

211 


"Georgie" 

poor  chap's  face.  They  had  scored  right 
under  the  post !  And  as  if  that  was  n't 
bad  enough  Linwood  charged  at  the  ball 
before  it  touched  the  ground,  for  the  place 
kick.  I  suppose  he  was  trying  to  make 
up  for  his  first  mistake,  but  I  wish  he  'd 
left  it  alone,  because  they  appealed  for 
'no  charge'  then — got  it,  and  Ernhill  (the 
big  forward)  kicked  a  goal.  We  were  five 
points  down  after  one  minute's  play. 
Looked  healthy  for  us,  did  n't  it  ?  " 

"It  did  rather," said  I  pulling  myself 
together.  I  had  followed  his  account  with 
some  difficulty. 

"Well,  we  kicked  off,  and  things  were 
pretty  even  till  half-time.  There  was  no 
more  scoring.  Linwood  did  n't  make  any 
serious  bloomers,  but  he  was  as  nervous 
as  a  hen  and  his  one  idea  was  to  get  rid  of 
the  ball  as  soon  as  he  got  it.  Our  chaps 
were  in  the  secret,  of  course,  and  most  of 
'em  pretty  anxious  about  him,  though  they 
had  n't  the  responsibility  I  had.  I  was 
watching  him  when  I  ought  to  have  been 
thinking  of  the  game,  and  all  at  once  I 
212 


The  Gladiators 

noticed  that  his  eyes  were  getting  wilder. 
The  Gladiators  began  to  suspect  that  there 
was  something  queer  about  him.  One  of 
their  halves  was  a  giddy  humorist.  I  saw 
him  touch  his  head  and  say,  '  Give  me  a 
ha'penny,  I'm  soft.'  I  yaas  wild.  I  told 
him  if  he  'd  come  round  afterwards  and 
remind  me,  I  'd  punch  his  silly  head  for 
him." 

"  And   did   he  ?  "  I  asked  with  interest. 

"  Yes,"  said  Georgie,  earnestly.  "  And 
I  did  it  too.  He  was  too  funny  to  live. 
There  won't  be  so  much  sparkling  wit 
sticking  out  all  over  him  in  his  next 
match." 

"  I  can  well  believe  it,"  said  I.  "  Go 
on  with  your  story.  What  happened  in 
the  second  half?  " 

"  A  good  deal."  said  Georgie  thought- 
fully. "  It  started  much  the  same  as  the 
first  though,  only  this  time  it  was  the  re- 
turn from  our  kick-off  that  Linwood 
mulled.  I  can  tell  you  I  did  wish  then 
that  I  'd  never  thought  of  putting  him  on. 
I  was  in  a  blue  funk  the  whole  time.  But 
213 


"Georgie" 

I  need  n't  have  worried.  He  recovered 
himself  finely — made  a  ripping  save  by 
chucking  himself  on  the  ball  at  their  feet, 
just  as  it  was  on  our  line." 

"  That  was  first  rate,"  said  I  encourag- 
ingly. Though  I  knew  no  more  than 
Adam  what  had  happened.  "  I  'm  glad 
the  poor  lad  did  something  decent." 

"It  wasn't  so  jolly  decent  for  him," 
Georgie  said  gloomily.  "  He  got  a  beastly 
kick  on  the  head  for  his  trouble.  Sort  of 
thing  you  might  expect  from  those  rotten 
Gladiators." 

"  Was  it  very  serious?  "  I  asked. 

His  face  fell  still  lower. 

"I  should  think  it  jolly  well  was.  It 
was  so  serious  that  it  sent  him  stark  star- 
ing off  his  chump.  I  saw  that  at  once  and 
tried  to  coax  him  off  the  field  quietly. 
The  other  chaps  would  n't  have  known 
anything  more  than  that  he  'd  had  a  bad 
cut." 

"  He  would  n't  go  then  ?  " 

"Go?  Not  he.  He  looked  me  up  and 
down  and  smiled.  Sort  of  smile  that  makes 
214 


The  Gladiators 

you  feel  cold  water  down  your  back,  and 
then  he  said  something  absurd  about  '  the 
cold  gray  dawn  of  the  morning  after.'  I 
knew  he  could  n't  make  more  of  a  fool  of 
himself  than  he  had  done,  so  I  said  no 
more  and  let  it  rip.  There  was  a  scrum 
the  next  minute  on  our  line,  and  our  for- 
wards got  possession  and  heeled  it  out — 
against  instructions  of  course.  Our  half, 
Powell,  was  picking  up  the  ball  when  the 
Linnet  rushed  up,  bashed  him  in  the  jaw 
with  the  flat  of  his  hand ;  seized  the  ball ; 
handed  off  the  visitors'  half  in  his  old  fes- 
tive way ;  feinted  to  pass  to  his  wing ; 
doubled  in,  beating  the  centre ;  was  threat- 
ened by  their  full-back ;  and  then  passed 
to  Wood,  his  wing  man.  My  hat !  "  He 
stopped  for  breath. 

"Well?"  said  I,  concealing  gracefully 
how  very  Greek  this  all  was  to  me. 

"Well,  you  know  what  Wood  is.  He 
can  do  his  hundred  yards  in  a  fifth  of  a 
second  outside  even  time,  and  none  of  the 
Gladiators  could  touch  him.  He  had  a 
clear  run  in  of  three-quarters  the  length 
215 


"Georgie" 

of  the  field  and  scored  under  the  posts.  I 
simply  could  n't  help  kicking  the  goal  after 
that;  but  those  beggars  scored  far  out 
from  a  forward  rush  and  made  the  score 
eight  points  to  our  five." 

I  felt  that  I  could  n't  bear  much  more  of 
this. 

"Georgie,"  said  I,  "suppose  you  cut 
the  technicalities  and  tell  me  what  hap- 
pened." 

Georgie  glanced  at  me  contemptuously. 

"  You  're  not  much  of  a  sportsman,"  said 
he.  "  I  hope  you  '11  bring  this  poor  little 
chap  up  to  be  more  manly  in  his  tastes. 
Why  did  you  pretend  that  you  were  so 
interested  if  you  were  n't  ?  " 

"  Go  on  about  the  Linnet,"  said  I 
wearily. 

Georgie  laughed. 

"You  should  have  seen  him,"  said  he. 
"  He  played  like  a  man  possessed  after 
that.  Ran  regularly  Berserk,  don't  you 
know.  He  could  n't  do  wrong.  His  tack- 
ling and  kicking  were  a  dream,  but  some- 
how we  could  n't  score.  Time  after  time 
216 


The  Gladiators 

our  men  were  held  up  on  the  line.  I  was  in 
a  fever  because  time  was  nearly  up,  when 
from  a  scrum  just  in  their  half  Powell  got 
possession  and  passed  to  Linwood.  I 
thought  he  'd  try  to  break  through  again, 
but  he  didn't.  He  had  a  wild  drop  at 
goal,  and  the  ball  just  dropped  over  the 
bar.  It  was  an  awful  moment  for  us,  but 
it  did  the  trick." 

"Why,"  said  I  innocently. 
"Put  us  a  point  ahead."  Georgie  eyed 
me  compassionately.  "  Linwood  gave  a 
howl  when  he  saw  what  he'd  done  and 
rushed  off  to  the  pavilion.  He  'd  won  the 
match  for  us,  that's  all.  There  was  no 
more  scoring  after  that.  By  Jove,  I  am 
glad  to  think  we  got  the  better  of  those 
damned  Gladiators  !  It 's  taken  'em  down 
a  peg  I  can  tell  you.  They  '11  sing  a  jolly 
sight  smaller  for  their  next  few  matches 
I  '11  bet  my  boots.  I  only  wish  I  dared 
tell  'em  they  'd  been  beaten  by  a  lunatic. 
But  I  should  n't  be  surprised  now  I  come 
to  think  of  it,  if  they  guessed.  There  was 
that  ass  Gummery." 


"Georgie" 

"  How  did  you  find  the  Linnet  when 
you  went  to  dress  ?  "  I  asked  with  some 
curiosity. 

Georgie's  face  fell. 

"We  did  n't  find  him.  When  we  reached 
the  pavilion  we  could  n't  get  in.  Chap 
held  the  door  with  benches  and  tables  and 
things.  We  heard  a  rustling  and  clinking 
and  scuffling  and  someone  breathing  hard 
inside,  but  we  could  n't  get  in.  We  were 
afraid  of  smashing  the  door  at  first,  but 
after  a  bit  we  got  mad  and  went  for  it.  It 
gave  quite  suddenly  and  Gummery  went 
in  head  first  and  nearly  broke  his  silly 
neck  over  my  bag.  You  'd  have  laughed 
if  you  'd  seen  that  dressing-room,  Martin." 
He  chuckled  at  the  memory. 

"  What  was  he  doing  ?  "  said  I. 

Georgie  laughed. 

"He  was  n't  doing  anything.  He  was  'nt 
there.  But  he  'd  left  us  something  to  re- 
member him  by  before  he  went." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Well  he  'd  had  a  giddy  little  game  of 
Tom  Tiddler's  Ground,"  Georgie  said. 
218 


"  You  never  saw  sucli  a  mess" 


The  Gladiators 

"  You  never  saw  such  a  mess.  He  fd 
turned  out  our  pockets ;  piled  all  our 
watches  in  a  heap  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor ;  strewed  the  money  in  a  tasty  circle 
round  'em  ;  stuck  the  scarf  pins  in  a  chunk 
of  soap  ;  and  chucked  the  match-boxes  and 
cigarette-cases  into  Gummery's  bag.  He'd 
left  his  own  clothes  as  a  legacy,  but  he  'd 
not  gone  without.  He  'd  borrowed  a  vest 
from  one  chap,  pants  from  another,  and 
socks  from  me.  He  'd  taken  a  new  tweed 
suit  from  someone  else,  and  the  two  teams 
spent  a  couple  of  happy  hours  sorting  their 
jewelry  with  sulphurous  language  and 
shivering  with  cold.  The  worst  of  it  is 
that  those  cursed  Gladiators  can't  find  all 
their  precious  heirlooms,  and  I  shall  have 
to  make  it  good.  In  common  decency  I 
must  do  that.  But  I  don't  believe  the 
Linnet 's  a  kleptomaniac,  anyhow." 

"  What  had  become  of  the  Linnet  ?  "  I 
asked  again. 

Georgie  looked  uneasy. 

"  The  window  at  the  back  was  open,"  he 
said.  "  I  hope  to  goodness  he  is  n't  any 
221 


"Georgie" 

the  worse  for  the  game.  I  went  out  while 
they  were  grabbing  at  their  paltry  prop- 
erty, and  looked  about  for  him.  The 
groundsman  came  up  to  me  at  last.  Silly 
fool !  '  It 's  not  my  fault,  sir.' '  Georgie 
was  an  admirable  mimic.  "  '  He  bounced 
out  o'  that  there  little  winder  as  hagile  and 
hactive  as  a  leapin'  roe.  I  could  n't  'a' 
stopped  'im.  You  could  n't  'a'  stopped 
'im.  No  one  livin'  could  n't  'a'  stopped 
'im.  Not  Sandow  could  n't  nor  Hacken- 
schmidt  neither.  I  could  n't  'elp  — '  " 

"I  told  him  to  stop  jawing,"  Georgie 
finished,  "and  asked  him  where  he  was 
now.  Chap  sniggered  and  said:  "Is 
friends  'as  bin  an'  took  'im  home,  sir.'  " 

"  And  had  they  ?     I  asked. 

Georgie  sighed. 

"  Yes.  The  doctor  and  a  warder  chap 
were  waiting  and  caught  him  on  the  re- 
bound as  it  were.  I  think  on  the  whole  it 
was  time." 

"It  does  rather  seem  to  have  been," 
said  I  thoughtfully. 

222 


VII 

Peterkin 


VII 

Peterkin 

HEN  poor  Muggeridge  died 
and  left  his  money  to  her  sister, 
Drusilla  thought  with  me 
that  the  habits  of  saving  and 
careful  frugality  were  rooted  too  deeply  in 
Anne  for  her  to  get  any  real  good  or 
pleasure  out  of  the  great  and  sudden 
change  in  her  fortunes.  And  the  magical 
and  radiant  transformation  it  effected  in 
her  was  almost  a  shock  to  us.  I  suppose 
it  raised  new  hopes  in  her  sordid  little 
heart  by  what  Georgie  told  me  afterward 
of  the  things  that  happened  that  night  of 
the  dance,  and  Drusilla  and  I  were  both 
glad  afterward  that  Matthew  Arnold's 
health  had  driven  us  at  that  time  to  Mary- 
beach.  I  am  thankful  that  we  had  no 
share  in  the  thing. 

"  Don't   you   have  to   be  very  careful 
now,  Georgie  ? " 

225 


"Georgie" 

"  What  on  earth  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Georgie  flung  round  and  faced  her  de- 
fiantly. This  promenade  on  the  terrace 
with  Anne  was  none  of  his  arranging  ;  but 
Diana  was  upstairs  with  his  mother ;  it 
was  too  early  to  dress,  and  so  here  he  was, 
entrapped  for  half-an-hour  at  least. 

"Why  should  I  be  careful?" 

She  smiled. 

"  Well — Diana  is  particular,  don't  you 
think  ?  " 

"  We  won't  discuss  Diana,  thank  you." 
His  tone  was  slightly  uneasy. 

"Nonsense!"  Anne  laughed.  "I've 
known  you  long  enough  and  well  enough, 
to  discuss  anything  with  you,  and  I  was  at 
school  with  Diana.  The  question  is,  does 
she  know  you  ?  " 

He  stared  at  her  uneasily. 

"She  has  been  very  well  brought  up, 
Georgie.  She  always  says  and  does  the 
proper  thing,  you  know,  and  she  likes  her 
friends  to  say  and  do  the  proper  things. 
She  lives  in  a  high  moral  atmosphere  all 
the  time.  When  I  think  of  what  she 
226 


Peterkin 

must  expect  of  the  man  she  is  to  marry  I 
— well,  of  course  you  know  all  this?" 

"  Suppose  you  talk  of  something  pleas- 
ant for  a  change  !  "  Georgie  growled. 

"  I  am  thinking  of  your  future  happi- 
ness," Anne  murmured  as  they  turned. 
"  She  wtttbe  happy  of  course  with  such  a 
kind,  honorable,  constant  lover  as  you, 
Georgie." 

Georgie  gazed  at  the  open  windows, 
with  hunted  eyes. 

"  It  must  be  delightful,"  Anne  pursued, 
"to  be  engaged  to  a  girl  like  Diana.  A 
girl  who  always  defers  so  charmingly  to  the 
opinion  of  the  world  at  large.  She  is  so 
sweetly  conventional,  is  n't  she  ?  " 

"  She 's  not  a  cat !  "  Georgie  muttered. 

"  When  you  were  engaged  to  me,  Geor- 
gie, I  knew  all  your  faults,  and  took  you 
as  you  were — " 

"  You  rubbed  them  in  often  enough,"  he 
cried. 

She  ignored  this. 

"Does  Diana  know  of  all  your  faults? 
Have  you  made  a  clean  breast  of  every  - 
227 


"Georgia" 

thing  to  her?  Because  if  you  haven't,  I 
would  advise  you  not  to.  I  don't  think 
you  have  somehow.  I  have  a  sort  of  feel- 
ing that  you  would  n't  be  engaged  now  if 
you  had." 

"  Every  chap,"  Georgie  said  quickly, 
"kicks  up  his  heels  some  time  or  other. 
I  'm  not  the  only  fellow  who 's  played  the 
goat  a  bit.  I  Ve  given  up  that  sort  of  tom- 
foolery now." 

Anne  sighed. 

"  I  liked  you  better  before  you  grew 
wise,  Georgie." 

"  It 's  hardly  a  case  of  your  liking  now." 
Georgie  got  his  own  back  brutally. 
"  When  a  man  meets  a  girl  like  Diana,  he 
naturally  feels  that  he  wants  to  settle  down 
and  leave  all  his  careless  habits  behind 
him." 

"With  the  other  things  he  has  forgot- 
ten to  care  about  — betting,  for  instance, 
and  poker,  and  bridge,  and — and  me. 
Have  you  mentioned  your  many  engage- 
ments to  Diana,  by  the  way  ?  If  you 
have  n't,  don't !  I  don't  fancy  somehow 
228 


"I  liked  you  better  before  you  grew  wise,  Georgie" 


Peterkin 

that  it  would  be  as  amusing  to  her  as  it  is 
to  the  rest  of  us.  She  has  high  principles, 
you  see.  Even  a  friendship  with  Diana 
has  its  disadvantages.  She  expects  so 
much  of  one  that  it  is  difficult  to  live  up  to 
her  ideals,  don't  you  think  ?  It 's  rather  a 
strain  sometimes  to  reach  the  high-water 
mark  of  her  approval.  But  of  course  you 
never  feel  like  that." 

"  We  need  n't  rake  up  the  past  like 
this,"  he  said  hastily.  "  And  I  would  rather 
you  did  n't  say  anything  more  against  Di. 
She 's  altered  my  whole  life.  A  man  must 
have  some  one  to  reverence ;  to  idealize  ;  to 
put  on  a  pedestal,  don't  you  know.  She 's 
changed  me  from  a  lazy,  good-for-nothing 
beggar  into — "  he  hesitated. 

"  Into  what,  Georgie  ?  " 

"She's  made  me  buck  up,  and  given 
me  something  to  live  for." 

"  Herself? " 

"  She  found  me  " — Georgie  rushed  into 

strange,   wild   metaphor — "wallowing    in 

muddy  waters  ;  muddy  with  lost  ideals  and 

half- forgotten    schemes;    She    found   me 

231 


•"  Georgie  " 

pulled  down  by  the  remembrance  of  the 
thousands  of  good  intentions  I  'd  never 
carried  out  and  been  paving  the  way  with  ; 
only  held  up  by  a  few  longings  for  some- 
thing better." 

"You're  getting  quite  eloquent!" 
Anne  murmured  admiringly.  "  You  Ve 
developed  that  gift  of  metaphor  since  you 
were  engaged  to  me.  Were  there  any 
broken  promises  in  that  muddv  water, 
Georgie  ?  " 

But  Georgie  had  worked  himself  up. 

"  Diana  is  an  angel  from  Paradise  com- 
pared with  all  the  other  girls  I  Ve — " 

"  Been  engaged  to  ?  "  she  asked  softly. 
"  Of  course.  But  even  to  angels  there  are 
some  drawbacks.  When  Diana  came 
along  and  picked  you  out  of  that  muddy 
water  full  of  broken  promises  and  things, 
did  she  shake  all  the  mud  off  your  clothes 
before  she  led  you  into  paths  of  light  ?  Be- 
cause if  there  is  one  little  speck  left,  you 
must  hide  it  from  her.  It  is  n't  likely,  of 
course,  but  still  you  never  know.  Diana 
wouldn't  understand  that  that  kind  of 
232 


Peterkin 

mud  sometimes  sticks.  Do  you  ever 
put  your  money  an  a  dead  cert  now, 
Georgie  ? " 

"  Don't  try  to  be  funny,"  Georgie  spoke 
rudely  with  a  scarlet  face. 

"  I  'm  only  playing  up  to  you,"  Anne 
said  lightly.  "  I  Ve  always  played  up  to 
you,  have  n't  I  ?  I  must  give  up  the  habit. 
Does  Diana  love  you  well  enough  to  take 
the  mud  with  you  ?  Do  you  think  she 
would  love  you  if  you  forged  a  cheque,  or 
swore  out  loud  when  your  motor  broke 
down  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Georgie,  firmly.  "And 
I  'm  not  going  to  forge  a  cheque,  so  we 
need  n't  discuss  the  question." 

"  Would  her  heart  still  be  true  to  you  if 
you  told  her  suddenly  that  you  'd  become 
a  Plymouth  Brother,  or  a  Particular  Bap- 
tist, do  you  suppose  ?  " 

Georgie  looked  at  his  watch  and  thanked 
his  stars  that  it  was  seven  o'clock. 

"  I  'm  going  in,  Anne." 

With  ill-concealed  joy  he  turned  towards 
the  house. 

233 


"Georgie" 

"  Wait,"  Anne  said,  with  a  curious  chok- 
ing sound  in  her  throat. 

"  Georgie,"  she  said,  "  you  must  n't 
mind  my  laughing  at  you.  You  do  rather 
lend  yourself  to  it,  don't  you  ?  And  I  really 
do  want  you  to  be  happy.  About  Diana. 
Don't  put  her  love  to  any  severe  test  if 
you  can  help  it.  I  'm  afraid  it  would  n't 
make  much  of  a  show  beside  her  princi- 
ples and  her  strong  sense  of  duty.  If  I 
were  you  I  would  n't  tell  her  about — well, 
about  me."  Her  voice  broke. 

Georgie,  always  soft-hearted,  turned 
quickly  and  stared  at  her  face  in  the  fading 
light.  Her  brown  eyes,  usually  so  quiet 
and  critical,  were  full  of  tears. 

"  Don't,  Anne."  He  laid  his  hand  on 
her  arm.  "  Don't,  for  goodness  sake.  I  'm 
a  brute,  I  know  I  am.  I  'm  not  worth  it. 
I  —  " 

"  No."  Anne's  dark  eyes  met  his 
troubled  blue  ones.  "  I  don' t  think  you 
are." 

He  flushed. 

"  But  I  'm  not  quite  such  a  hound  as 
234 


Peterkin 

you  think  me.  I  'm  not  deceitful.  I 
could  n't  help  changing,  but  I  Ve  not  tried 
to  hide  it.  I  told  Diana  that  I  had  been 
engaged  to  you  once,  and  to  —  to  other 
people.  And  I  told  her  that  the  sight  of 
her  had  driven  every  other  woman  off  the 
earth,  as  far  as  /  was  concerned." 

Anne  made  a  hasty  effort  to  speak,  but 
he  went  on  firmly. 

"  I  told  her  how  badly  I  'd  behaved  to 
you  —  and  the  others.  I  said  how  sorry 
I  was  to  have  behaved  in  that  way,  and 
she  forgave  me.  She  said  she  was  very 
sorry  for  you  too." 

"Oh!" 

Anne  wrenched  away  her  arm  and 
hurried  into  the  house,  speechless  with 
some  emotion  Georgie  could  not  fathom* 
and,  much  perturbed,  he  stayed  behind  on 
the  terrace  for  a  minute  or  two. 

There  was  to  be  a  dance  after  dinner 
that  night,  and  hundreds  of  brightly 
colored  Chinese  lanterns  lent  romance  and 
mystery  to  the  garden,  and  made  the  dark- 
ness visible,  down  the  shadowy  paths. 
235 


"Georgie" 

"  Time  I  went  up  to  dress,"  Georgie  said 
at  last.  "  And  /  never  noticed  that  Di 
was  so  beastly  proper.  I  suppose  I  don't 
always  notice  things  that  other  people  do. 
Anne's  prettier  than  she  used  to  be.  I  did 
notice  that.  It  does  n't  seem  to  matter 
much  what  women  say,  if  they  are  n't 
pretty." 

But  all  the  time  he  was  dressing,  Anne 's 
words  rankled  in  his  ingenuous  mind: 
"  Do  you  ever  put  your  money  on  a  dead 
cert?"  Did  he? 

He  laughed  uneasily. 

That  was  one  of  the  things  he  had 
promised  Di.  That  he  would  give  up 
betting. 

"I  love  horses,"  she  had  said.  "To 
have,  and  to  ride  and  drive  they  're  rip- 
ping. They  're  better  than  any  old  motor, 
Georgie.  But  when  it  comes  to  backing 
them,  they  're  a  snare  of  the  devil." 

'He  remembered  this  now.  In  her 
curious  mixture  of  Puritanism  and  school- 
boy slang  she  had  once  given  him  a  lecture 
on  his  bad  habits. 

236 


Peterkin 

"  She  told  me  that  backing  horses  was 
the  first  step  in  the  broad  path  which  leads 
to  destruction,"  he  murmured  moodily, 
groping  for  his  collar  stud.  "  Said  she  had 
reason  to  know.  .  .  How  can  she?  I 
suppose  the  old  chap 's  been  making  a 
plunge.  It 's  a  rotten  hole  to  be  in." 

It  was.  Two  days  before,  Georgie, 
forgetting  his  promise,  had  put  twenty 
pounds  on  Peterkin.  And  Peterkin  had 
won. 

"  Ten  to  one  she  '11  never  hear  about 
it,"  he  thought.  "  I  shall  never  be  able  to 
explain  why  I  did  it.  She  's  so  beastly 
particular  about  these  things." 

He  peered  down  through  the  open 
window  at  the  dusky  garden. 

Some  of  the  girls  were  sauntering  up 
and  down  the  terrace  already.  He  noticed 
how  prettily  their  flimsy,  shimmering 
dresses  caught  the  lights;  clear  green, 
glowing  yellow,  and  delicate  blue,  from  the 
swaying  lanterns,  and  then  he  saw  Diana. 

She  smiled  up  at  his  window. 

"  Hurry  up,  Georgie  !  "  cried  she. 
«s  237 


"Georgie" 

In  her  hair  and  in  the  lace  at  her  breast, 
she  wore  his  flowers.  How  pretty  she 
was ;  how  dear  !  Georgie  nodded  and 
drew  in. 

"  I  can't  tell  her,"  he  said  miserably, 
"and  I  can't  be  a  damned  coward  either. 
She  said  we  were  n't  to  have  any  secrets 
from  each  other.  I  '11  tell  her  while  we  're 
dancing.  No.  I  'm  hanged  if  I  '11  put 
the  thing  off." 

He  tore  a  sheet  of  paper  out  of  his 
pocket  book  and  scrawled  a  few  hasty 
lines. 

I  can't  speak  to  you  till  I  've  told  you  some- 
thing. I  broke  my  promise  to  you  and  backed 
Peterkin.  He  won  by  two  lengths,  but  I 
sha'n't  have  a  happy  moment  till  I  hear  you  've 
forgiven  me.  I  know  I  was  a  mean  hound  to 
forget,  and  it 's  worrying  me  to  death. 
Yours  always, 

GEORGIE. 

He  put  it  into  an  envelop,  and  asked  a 
maid  he  met  in  the  passage  to  give  it  to 
Diana  at  once. 

238 


Peterkin 

He  was  early  in  the  drawing-room,  and 
when  Diana  came  in  with  Anne,  Georgie 
found  that  it  fell  to  his  unhappy  lot  to  take 
down  an  important  cousin.  So  he  saw 
nothing  of  his  sweetheart  while  dinner 
lasted,  but  in  the  drawing-room  after- 
wards he  picked  a  program  from  a  tray 
and  went  up  to  her.  She  was  very  grave, 
and  in  her  white  cloudy  dress  looked  pale. 
She  gazed  steadily  into  his  face  as  he  drew 
near,  and  he  wondered  what  had  driven 
the  roses  from  her  cheeks  so  quickly. 
They  had  been  in  full  bloom  on  the  terrace 
before  dinner.  He  waited  silently  for  her 
to  speak. 

"  I  can't  speak  to  you  now,"  she  said  in  a 
low  voice.  "  I — I  have  n't  had  time  to  think 
things  over  yet." 

Georgie  stared,  then  laughed  uneasily. 

"  Is  it  a  hanging  matter?"  he  asked 
lightly.  "  I  'm  frightfully  sorry  Di,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing,  don't  you  know.  I  'm 
sorry  I  'm  such  an  awful  backslider." 

"Don't!"     She  spoke    sharply.    "Go 
away.    I  can't  talk  to  you  now." 
239 


"  Georgia" 

"  But  Di— " 

She  stopped  him  again. 

"  Don't  explain,"  she  said.  "  I  can't  bear 
it.  I  only  want  you  to  go  away.  Oh,  do 
go  away." 

Georgie  gazed  wretchedly  at  her  de- 
termined face. 

"  Are  n't  you  even  going  to  dance  with 
me,  Di?" 

She  made  an  impatient  sound. 

"Dance  with  you?  To-night?  Are 
you  mad,  Georgie?  I — I  wonder  you 
dare  !  No — I  'm  not  going  to  dance  with 
you.  And  now,  will  you  please  go  ?  " 

Bewildered,  wounded,  even  indignant, 
he  turned  away  without  another  word. 
For  Diana  to  be  so  unforgiving !  so  hard  ! 
so  narrow  !  It  was  incredible.  Diana  who 
loved  him  so.  Georgie  was  a  spoilt  boy, 
and  never  in  his  life  had  he  had  such  a 
snubbing.  His  program  was  still  empty, 
but  he  did  n't  want  to  dance  now. 
Gloomily  he  walked  across  the  room,  to 
the  open  window,  and  stared  blankly  out. 
If  it  had  been  any  house  but  his  mother's 
240 


Peterkin 

he  would  have  gone  away  at  once,  and  the 
thought  of  his  duty  dances,  the  miles  of 
small  talk  he  would  have  to  listen  to,  and 
originate,  appalled  him. 

This  was  the  first  time  he  had  seen  the 
light  of  life  go  out  utterly  and  entirely, 
and  it  was  not  easy  to  bear,  impossible  to 
dissemble,  his  misery.  Because  he  loved 
her,  he  told  himself.  This  was  not  a  pass- 
ing fancy  like  the  others.  Di  was  differ- 
ent ;  had  always  been  different.  If  she 
gave  him  up,  he  had  done  with  girls.  And 
it  was  for  so  little.  How  beastly  it  was  of 
the  band  to  play  "Tresor  d 'Amour." 
They  had  agreed  to  dance  that  together 
always. 

"  What  is  it,  Georgie  ?  " 

Anne 's  voice  sounded  quite  kind.  He 
looked  at  her  impatiently,  and  wondered 
again  what  she  had  done  to  make  herself 
look  so  pretty.  Her  dress  was  yellow, 
sweet  sunshiny  yellow,  and  her  hair  was 
waved  high,  with  gold  colored  pansies 
in  it. 

"  Is  it  Peterkin  ?  "  said  Anne. 
241 


"Georgie" 

Georgia  stared.  Anne  dropped  her 
program,  and  he  picked  it  up,  to  hold  it 
unthinkingly  in  his  hand. 

"  I  was  with  Diana  when  she  got  your 
absurd  note,  Georgie.  She  let  me 
read  it." 

"  No  ?  "     His  face  reddened. 

"Yes.  You  don 't  mind,  do  you ?  It's 
a  pity  you  wrote  it,  because  Diana  did  n't 
understand.  She  never  does  understand 
very  well,  you  know ;  not  backsliding. 
She  is  so  good  herself;  her  pedestal  is 
such  a  very  high  one.  She  can't  make 
allowances  for  us  sinners,  my  poor 
Georgie." 

"What  did  she  say?" 

"  Say  ? "  Anne  arranged  her  pansies. 
"  Oh,  she  said  a  lot  of  things.  I  don't 
remember  her  words  exactly.  She  seemed 
to  think  she  has  been  a  fool  to  try  to 
pluck  such  a  brand  from  the  burning  as 
you.  She  seemed  to  think  that  she 
ought  to  have  known  better  than  to  try  to 
bring  such  a  very  black  sheep  back  to  the 
fold.  I  think—" 

242 


Peterkin 

"What  do  you  think?" 

"Why,  I  think  she  almost  wishes  she 
had  left  you  in  that  muddy  water." 

"  Good  Lord ! "  he  gave  her  such  a 
glance  of  abject  misery  that  she  smiled. 

"  Cheer  up,  Georgie.  You  always 
could  console  yourself,  you  know,  even  in 
the  bitterest  moments.  Drown  your 
sorrows  in  dancing.  The  room  is  full  of 
delightful  girls." 

"  Ugh  !  "  Georgie  shuddered.  Anne 's 
eyes  radiant,  and  mysterious,  puzzled  him. 
"  I  don't  want  any  delightful  girls.  Give 
me  your  program  !  " 

"  You  're  not  very  polite,"  she  said  with 
a  smile.  "  And  you  've  got  my  program 
already." 

He  laughed  recklessly. 

"  So  I  have."  He  scribbled  his  initials 
down  the  card.  "Anne,  you  always  un- 
derstood me.  Even  when  you  tried  to 
reform  me,  you  were  n't  narrow.  Even —  " 

"  Give  me  back  my  program,  Georgie. 
You  're  the  host.  You  've  taken  enough. 
You  —  " 

243 


"Georgie" 

"Rot!"  he  said.  "We'll  dance 
together. " 

AT  ten  o'clock  next  morning,  Georgie, 
after  a  sound,  healthy  night 's  rest  proper 
to  his  years,  woke  up  and  remembered. 

"  Oh  my  hat !  "  he  said ;  and  rushed 
hastily  to  his  cold  bath.  Unluckily  a  cold 
bath  helps  rather  than  retards  memory, 
and  Georgie 's  ejaculation  as  he  brushed 
his  short  hair  was  :  "  Good  Lord  !  "  A 
couple  of  withered  yellow  pansies  had 
suddenly  caught  his  appalled  eye.  He 
was  amazed  to  find  that  this  memory,  such 
as  it  was,  had  taken  away  all  desire  for 
breakfast,  and  he  went  straight  out  of 
doors  with  a  longing  for  fresh  breezes. 

He  avoided  the  terrace  and  rose-garden 
with  its  possibility  of  girls,  and  turned  to 
the  orchard  and  plantation  beyond.  It 
was  hardly  a  happy  spot  to  choose,  for  it 
was  there  that  he  had  once  helped  Diana 
to  dig  up  primroses.  She  had  wanted  to 
make  his  mother 's  kitchen-garden  pretty, 
and  Georgie  wanted  what  she  wanted,  so 
244 


Peterkin 

they  had  planted  the  primroses  together, 
and  together  laughed  at  a  contemptuous, 
and  indignant  gardener.  Now  he  felt  that 
he  hated  the  memory  of  the  wood  and 
those  primroses  He  sat  down  on  the 
little  plank  seat  he  had  put  up  for  her,  and 
stared  moodily  at  the  ground. 

"What  an  infernal  mess  I  've  made  of 
everything,"  said  he  to  the  thrushes  and 
linnets. 

Lightly  a  hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Have  you  ?  "  Anne  asked. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  sulkily,  without  looking 
up. 

"  Are  you  very  miserable,  Georgie  ?  " 

"It's  a  rotten  world.  He  flung  a  piece 
of  bark  at  a  noisy  wren. 

"  Oh  !  "  Anne  caught  her  breath.  "  You 
are  very  cruel,  Georgie.  Cruel  and 
hard." 

"  Call  me  anything  you  like  !  "  cried  he. 
"  Heap  it  on.  And  it  is  n't  hardness, 
anyhow,  that 's  brought  me  to  this  /  " 

Anne  was  silent 

"I  suppose,"  she  said  at  last.     "This 

245 


"  Georgie" 

means  that  —  it  is  still  Diana,  I  sup- 
pose ?  " 

"Yes, "said  Georgie,  "it  will  always 
be  Diana ! " 

He  raised  his  moody  eyes  and  looked 
at  her.  Little,  and  pale,  and  plain ;  had 
he  been  mad  last  night  ? 

"  You  look  fagged."  He  tried  to  speak 
kindly.  "  Why  did  you  get  up?  " 

"  I  did  n't  sleep,"  she  said  in  alow  voice? 
"  I  was  awake  for  hours,  thinking.  I  had 
time  to  think  over  a  good  many  things. 
Do  you  —  Georgie,  do  you  remember 
what  you  said  last  night  ?  " 

"  Most  of  it "  —  in  a  miserable  voice. 
Then  suddenly  he  stood  up  beside 
her. 

* 

"  I  'm  not  going  back  on  my  word, 
Anne.  I  'm  not  much  catch,  but  I  'm  still 
yours  if  you  '11  take  me  as  I  am.  I  'm  not 
such  a  rotter  as  to  go  back  on  my  word  a 
second  time.  I  —  " 

She  stopped  him  with  a  quick  cry. 

"  Don't !  nothing  happened  last  night. 
I  have  forgotten  last  night.  I  shall  always 
246 


Peterkin 

forget  it.  Please  remember  that  you  are 
still  engaged  to  Diana." 

He  stared  at  her  stupidly. 

"  Many  a  time,"  Anne  said  in  a  low 
voice,  "  I  have  helped  you  out  of  your 
muddles.  Perhaps — who  knows  but  I 
might  even  help  you  out  of  this  one." 

"Nothing  can  help  me  now,"  said  he 
hopelessly.  And  she  left  him  to  curse  his 
gloomy  fate.  But  that  fate  was  kinder 
than  he  thought  and  was  hurrying  fast 
towards  him. 

"  Georgie ! " 

He  sprang  up,  brushed  his  hand  across 
his  eyes  that  he  might  the  better  see  across 
the  orchard,  and  found  to  his  shame  and 
horror  that  they  were  wet,  with  tears  for 
Diana.  I  have  always  thought  that  he  was 
fonder  of  that  girl  than  Drusilla  would 
allow. 

"  Georgie ! " 

Something  white  was  crossing  in  and 

out  of  the  apple  tree  shadows,  and  as  it 

drew    nearer   he    saw    that   little   specks 

and    flecks  of  light  dappled  a  girl's  fair 

247 


"Georgie" 

hair  through  the  trees.     It  was  of  course 
Diana. 

"Di." 

"  Oh,  Georgie  !  "  Her  eyes  were  smil- 
ing at  him  as  he  plunged  through  the  trees 
to  meet  her.  "  I  Ve  come  to  apologize  for 
last  night.  I  was  a  horrid  little  wretch  to 
you  last  night." 

"  Di !  "  Stupidly  he  repeated  her  name. 

"  Anne  has  explained,"  she  said  happily. 

"  Explained  ?  What  on  earth — " 

"  She  told  me  yesterday  before  dinner, 
that  you  and  she  still  loved  each  other.  I 
knew,  of  course,  that  you  had  once  been 
engaged,  and  when  she  said  that  now,  you 
regretted — me,  I — oh  Georgie — " 

"  Good  heavens  !  "  Georgie  was  thun- 
derstruck. 

"  When  I  looked  out  of  my  window  last 
night,"  Diana  said,  "you  were  holding  her 
hand.  I  saw  you.  But  it 's  all  right  now. 
Anne  has  just  been  in  to  tell  me  that  it 
was  all  a  mistake.  She  misunderstood 
you,  she  said." 

"  Misunderstood  !  "    Georgie  gasped. 
248 


Peterkin 

"She  was  right?"  Diana  cried,  pale 
with  sudden  fear.  "  She  did  misunderstand 
you  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Georgie  in  a  curious  voice, 
"  I  think  she  did." 

"Ten  minutes  ago,"  Diana  smiled,  "she 
gave  me  this  poor  little  note  of  yours. 
She  promised  one  of  the  maids  to  give 
it  to  me  last  night,  and  forgot  all  about 
it  till  this  morning.  I  have  only  just 
read  it." 

"  Where  is  Anne  ? "  Georgie  asked 
earnestly. 

Diana's  face  fell. 

"  She  went  straight  home.  I  am  sorry, 
but  she  said  she  felt  that  it  was  best  for 
her  to  go." 

"  On  the  whole,"  said  Georgie  grimly, 
"  I  think  it  perhaps  was." 

"It  was  rather  careless  of  her,  don't 
you  think  ? " 

With  some  difficulty  Georgie  refrained 
from  saying  what  he  thought  of  Anne 's 
carelessness. 

"What   about     Peterkin?"  he     asked 
249 


"Georgia" 

quickly.     "I    broke     my     promise,    Di? 
What  about  Peterkin  ?  " 

"Peterkin  ? "  Diana  blushed  and 
laughed.  "Oh  Georgie,  I  'm  afraid  I 
don't  always  practice  what  I  preach.  You 
see  I  had  six  pairs  of  gloves  and  a  half- 
a-crown  on  Peterkin  myself." 


250 


VIII 

When  the  Girls  Came 
Out  to  Play 


VIII 

When   the  Girls  Came 
Out  to  Play 

EORGIE  was  always  a  most 
shocking  boy  !  "  His  mother 
beamed  proudly  at  me  over  her 
embroidery.  "  I  can  remember 
the  time  when  there  was  n't  a  single  com- 
plete pack  of  cards  in  the  house.  Old  Mr. 
Borricole  used  to  get  terribly  annoyed 
when  he  dropped  in  to  play  picquet  with 
me  in  the  evenings.  He  counted  only 
fifty-one  cards  in  each  of  six  new  packs  one 
night.  It  really  was  annoying  when  you 
come  to  think  of  it." 

"  Yes,  "  said  I  puzzled.  "  But  I  don't 
quite  see  what  use  Georgie  —  " 

She  laughed  heartily.  This  handsome 
lady  has  an  infectious  jolly  laugh,  and  her 
son  inherits  it. 

"  In  every  case,"  said  she,  "it  was  the 
le  253 


"Georgie" 

Queen  of  Hearts  which  was  missing.  That 
disgraceful  boy  had  stolen  them  to  send 
away  as  valentines.  Six  of  them  !  " 

"  Well,"  said  I  thoughtfully,  "  he  still 
carries  out  his  young  promise.  I  don't 
know  his  pretty  Diana  very  well,  but  she 
seems  a  young  woman  of  strong  prin- 
ciples. She  keeps  him  in  order  even  more 
than  Anne  did.  Now  the  Goddess  Girl !  " 
I  drew  a  deep  breath.  "  I  could  under- 
stand his  feelings  there" 

"Ah,  you  always  had  a  weak  spot  for 
her.  I  wonder  Drusilla  was  n't  jealous. 
But  Georgie  says  the  Goddess  Girl  never 
held  his  heart  as  Diana  does.  She  never 
blinded  and  deafened  him  to  other  people's 
charms.  This  time  I  think  it  is  more  than 
a  mere  fancy.  He  says  she's  so  unex- 
pected. He  never  knows  if  she  will  burst 
into  the  wildest  school  boy  slang,  or  preach 
to  him  in  texts.  He  has  put  her  on  a  very 
high  pedestal  indeed." 

"  Yes,"    said    I,   "  she's  a   quaint   little 
lady.     And  she  worships  him.     There  's 
no  doubt  about  that." 
254 


When  the  Girls  Came  Out 

Georgia's  mother  assumed  the  "who 
could  help  it "  expression  which  is  natural 
to  her  on  these  occasions.  "  I  do  wish 
they  had  n't  had  this  last  absurd  quarrel," 
she  sighed.  "  Georgia  can't  help  taking 
a  little  notice  of  other  girls.  Really  she  is 
most  exacting,  and  knowing  what  he  is, 
Martin,  you  can't  wonder  that  the  boy  is 
always  so  besieged." 

I  laughed. 

"  I  'm  sorry  he  is  in  the  wars  again," 
said  I.  "  Send  him  down  to  Drusilla, 
and  let  her  try  her  hand  with  him  at  con- 
solation." 

The  next  evening  he  came,  and  when  I 
fathomed  the  deep  depths  of  gloomy  des- 
pair into  which  he  was  apparently  plunged 
I  was  almost  sorry  I  had  asked  him.  I 
left  him  as  soon  as  possible  to  Drusilla, 
trusting  to  her  tact  and  sympathy  to  clear 
away  the  clouds  which  overhung  his 
youthful  brow,  but  I  had  a  short  respite, 
for  in  ten  minutes  she  called  me  in. 
Georgie  was  standing  by  the  fire,  his  face 
hidden  in  his  arms,  which  rested  on  the 

255 


"Georgie" 

mantlepiece.  Drusilla,  in  her  pretty  pale 
gown,  stood  erect  and  excited  by  his  side. 
Her  blue  eyes  were  full  of  tears  and  her 
cheeks  flushed  a  vivid  rose-color.  Her 
hand  rested  lightly  on  Georgie's  coat 
sleeve. 

"Oh,  Martin,"  she  said  quickly,  ''poor 
Georgie  is  in  such  dreadful  trouble." 

My  thoughts,  of  course,  flew  to  Diana. 

"  Ride  over  and  make  it  up,"  I  sug- 
gested cheerfully. 

He  lifted  his  head. 

"  I  can  V  he  said  curtly,    "  now." 

I  waited,  puzzled,  for  him  to  explain. 

"  It  appears,"  said  he,  "  that  my  mother 
has  been  investing  money  for  the  last  few 
years  under  old  Borricole's  advice.  She 
has  not  been  lucky  in  her  investments. 
That's  all." 

I  stared  at  him. 

"My  mother,"  he  flung  his  head  back, 
"was  perfectly  right  to  do  as  she  liked,  of 
course.  And  she  meant  to  make  money 
for  me ;  to  double  the  sum  my  father  left. 
Unfortunately  she  went  for  advice  to  a 
256 


When  the  Girls  Came  Out 

thick-headed,  antediluvian  old  ass,  instead 
of  consulting  me." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  " — I  began 

"  Everything,  except  the  estate,  has 
gone,"  Drusilla  broke  in.  Georgie  will 
have  to  earn  his  own  living.  "  Is  n't  it 
terrible,  Martin  ? " 

"Your  mother's  lawyer — "  I  began 
again.  "  Old  Foxcroft — " 

"  Yes,"  said  Georgie,  "  Foxcroft  was 
pretty  strong  in  his  remarks.  In  fact,  he 
was  not  very  careful  about  what  he  said  to 
my  mother.  He  told  her  she  'd  been 
behaving  like  a  child,  and  I  nearly  kicked 
him  down  the  terrace  steps.  Only  his 
bald  head  saved  him.  No  one  shall  blame 
my  mother.  It  was  pure  unselfishness  on 
her  part.  She  was  thinking  of  me  all  the 
time  —  but — Oh,  damn  old  Borricole !  " 
he  finished  hastily. 

Drusilla  was  not  angry.  She  stroked  his 
sleeve  again,  brimming  over  with  sympathy. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Drusilla,  but  I  'm 
not  a  bit  myself.     It —  it 's  rather  a  nasty 
knock  for  a  chap,  is  n't  it  ? " 
257 


"Georgie" 

"  Oh,  come,"  said  I  hopefully,  Diet's 
hope  it  is  n't  quite  as  black  as  it 's  painted. 
There  must  be  something  left,  and  after 
all,  Georgie,  the  Manor  Estate — " 

"Good  Lord!"  he  interrupted ,  me,  in- 
dignantly. "We  sha'n't  starve,  if  that's 
what  you  mean,  and  if  you  think  I  mind 
having  to  work  you  're  jolly  well  mistaken. 
There  are  heaps  of  things  a  man  can  do 
that  are  simply  ripping.  Ranching,  and 
horse-training,  and  mounted  police,  and 
fighting — oh,  I  could  go  out  and  help 
those  jolly  little  Japs  like  anything.  It 
isn't  that.  It's  Diana." 

"  I  see."  It  had  n't  occurred  to  me  to 
think  of  that  as  a  complication. 

"Her  father's  affairs  are  a  bit  shaky, 
don't  you  see  ?  He  was  looking  to  me  to 
restore  the  fallen  fortunes  of  the  ancient 
house,  to  give  his  prehistoric  name  a  leg 
up,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  don't  you 
know.  He  '11  never  let  me  have  Di  now,  and 
even  if  he  did,  how  could  I  go  to  her  when 
we  've  quarreled,  and  ask  to  be  taken 
back — penniless  ?  '  Please  will  you  for- 

258 


When  the  Girls  Came  Out 

give  me?  I  Ve  lost  my  money.'  Not 
much." 

Drusilla  rubbed  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,"  said  she,  "you  don't  know  what 
love  is,  Georgie.  Money  is  nothing,  noth- 
ing, compared  with  love.  If  she  loves  you, 
she  '11  be  glad  to  have  you  back  and  glad 
to  help  you  to  bear  your  troubles.  She  '11 
be  glad  you  've  lost  your  money,  to  have 
the  chance  of  showing  you  that  she  loves 
you  for  yourself  alone.  You  don't  under- 
stand how  a  nice  girl  feels,  the  least  little 
bit." 

Georgie  played  with  a  Chelsea  cup  and 
saucer  and  said  nothing. 

"  Yes,"  said  I  consolingly.  "  Unless 
her  father  puts  his  foot  down  and — " 

"That's  just  it,"  said  poor  Georgie 
quietly.  "And  it's  the  devil  of  a  foot 
when  he  does.  Diana  told  me  once  that 
the  fifth  commandment  was  the  most 
beautiful  thing  in  the  whole  prayer-book. 
She 's  been  very  well  brought  up.  Her 
father  sings  psalms  to  wipe  out  his  disrep- 
utable past,  and  drown  his  losses  on  the 
259 


"Georgie" 

races,  and  Diana  would  rather  die  than 
disobey  either  her  father  or  her  mother. 
I  sha'  n't  go  near  her  again.  The  less  I 
see  of  her  now,  the  better  for  both 
of  us." 

"If she  loves  you,"  Drusilla  persisted, 
"  she  won't  let  you  give  her  up." 

Georgie  sighed. 

"  You  're  very  sweet,  Drusie,"  he  said, 
with  a  whole-hearted  forgetfulness  of  the 
past.  "  You  're  as  true  as  steel  yourself, 
so  you  think  every  other  woman  the  same. 
But  they  are  n't,  and  even  in  the  best  of 
them  there  is  something  they  put  before 
love.  Diana 's  principles  come  first,  and 
always  will.  And — "  he  added  loyally, 
"  I  'm  not  sure  that  I  don't  admire  her  for 
it.  I  reverence  Diana  even  more  than  I 
love  her." 

"Ah,"  said  Drusilla  quietly,  "Diana's 
only  a  woman,  Georgie,  and  in  spite  of 
principles  you  never  quite  know  what  a 
woman  will  do.  Besides,  don't  you  think 
you  will  be  rather  cruel  to  keep  away 
from  her  without  giving  her  an  oppor- 
260 


When  the  Girls  Came  Out 

tunity  ?  Oh,  my  dear  boy,  don't  break 
her  poor  little  heart  for  the  sake  of  your 
own  silly  pride." 

But  Georgie  threw  back  his  shoulders 
and  set  his  teeth  in  his  admirable  British 
way. 

"Thank  you  Drusie,"  he  said,  "you 
mean  well,  but  you  don't  quite  understand. 
There  are  some  things  a  decent  chap  can't 
do.  This  is  one  of  'em." 

Drusilla  grew  crimson,  but  she  kept 
back  the  torrent  of  words  on  her  tongue's 
end,  and  let  the  matter  rest  where  it  was. 

"  He  would  never  see  my  point  of  view," 
she  said  sadly  to  me  afterward.  "He 
would  spoil  a  girl 's  life  with  a  light  heart 
for  the  sake  of  his  precious  self-respect. 
It  is  n't  self-respect.  It 's  fear  of  what 
people  will  say." 

"Drusilla,"  replied  I  thoughtfully,  "is  n't 
all  this  fuss  a  bit  unnecessary.  Even  if 
Georgie  and  his  mother  have  nothing  else, 
the  estate  will  bring  them  in  fifteen  hun- 
dred a  year  or  so.  That 's  three  times  as 
much  as  we  have  to  live  on.  Yet  you 
261 


«  Georgia  " 

both  talk  as  if  the  workhouse  was  waiting 
with  open  arms  for  them." 

"Ye-es;"  she  looked  doubtful.  But 
they  will  have  to  give  up  their  horses  and 
things.  Georgie  says  if  his  mother  keeps 
even  a  pony  cart  he  will  have  to  sell  the 
Scarlet  Runner,  and  he  means  her  to  keep 
one.  He  hates  selfishness,  and  she  11 
never  be  able  to  economize,  Martin.  She 's 
a  darling,  but  she  never  could  see  the 
point  of  being  careful  in  little  things. 
She 's  nearly  as  extravagant  as  she  's  gen- 
erous. Can  you  imagine  her  riding  in  a 
tram  to  save  a  cab  fare,  or  going  to  town 
second  class  ?  I  don't  know  what 's  to  be- 
come of  them  now." 

"  The  poor  lady  must  be  very  much  up- 
set," said  I  thoughtfully. 

"  Oh,  of  course — what  a  brute  I  am  !  " 
Drusilla  jumped  up.  We  were  sitting  at 
breakfast  the  morning  after  Georgie 's 
revelation. 

"  I  '11  run  up  and  see  her  at  once,"  cried 
she.     "  She  's  been  perfectly  sweet  to  me 
always.     I  only  hope  there 's  something  I 
262 


When  the  Girls  Came   Out 

can  do  for  her  now.  It 's  terrible  to  see 
people  unhappy  unless  you  can  do  things 
for  them  at  once." 

She  did  n't  come  back  till  long  after 
lunch,  and  I  met  her  at  the  gate.  Her 
face  was  pale,  and  I  could  see  that  she  had 
been  crying.  Drusilla's  sympathetic  heart 
will  wear  her  out  in  time,  I  feel  assured. 

"Well?"  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  Martin — that  poor  thing — " 

"  Does  she  take  it  so  much  to  heart  ? " 
I  asked  gently.  "  She  feels,  of  course,  that 
she  has  done  Georgie  an  injury.  Well — 
I  am  not  surprised  at  that." 

Drusilla  looked  surprised.  "I  am  not 
talking  about  Georgie's  mother"  she  said. 
"She's  as  jolly  as  anything.  It's  Diana." 

"Diana?" 

"  Yes.  Georgie 's  mother  wrote  to  her 
last  night  and  confessed  what  she  had 
done,  and  the  child  rushed  off  at  once. 
Ingraham  is  an  awful  place  to  get  out  of, 
and  I  am  afraid  she  is  the  kind  of  poor 
little  thing  who  always  misses  trains  or 
gets  into  wrong  ones.  She  was  three 
263 


"Georgie" 

hours  on  the  way.  I  was  sitting  with 
Georgie  's  mother  when  she  rushed  in,  and 
her  face  was  ghastly." 

"Well?" 

Drusilla  rubbed  her  eyes. 

"  I  wanted  to  go  away,  but  they 
would  n't  let  me.  Diana  flung  her  arms 
round  both  our  necks  and  burst  out  crying. 
She  said  she  would  never  have  spoken  to 
Georgie  as  she  did  if  she  had  known  that 
he  was  in  trouble,  and  that  she  had  dis- 
obeyed her  father  in  now  coming  to  see 
him." 

"  Ah,"  said  I  thoughtfully. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  Drusilla  went  on  with  a 
rush,  "  I  was  quite  right  and  so  was  Geor- 
gie. She  has  been  ordered  to  give  him 
up.  She  came  to  tell  them  that  she  loves 
him  with  all  her  heart,  and  forgave  him  for 
anything  he  had  ever  done.  She  wanted 
to  tell  him  herself  that  her  parents  said  she 
was  to  give  him  up.  You  see,  Martin,  the 
poor  child  has  another  admirer,  an  affluent 
neighbor  of  theirs,  and  now,  of  course,  an 
infinitely  better  match." 
264 


When  the  Girls  Came  Out 

"  Poor  Georgie,"  said  I.  "  What  did  he 
say?" 

"Oh!"  Drusilla  stamped  her  foot. 
"  I  Ve  no  patience  with  Georgie.  He  stood 
there  as  sulky  as  an  owl  and  said  nothing. 
He  did  n't  even  take  her  to  the  station,  but 
let  the  coachman  do  it  in  the  dog-cart. 
When  she  had  gone,  he  cried.  He  did  n't 
seem  to  mind  me  being  there,  but  I  wish 
he  had  done  it  before  Diana.  It  would 
have  been  kinder.  His  mother  cried  too, 
for  sympathy,  /was  crying  all  the  time.  Oh 
we  have  had  a  happy  afternoon.  Georgie 's 
mother  does  n't  seem  to  mind  the  money 
being  gone,  but  she  was  dreadfully  upset 
when  Georgie  said  he  was  going  to  earn 
his  own  living.  How  funny  people  are." 

"  Perhaps  a  little  honest  hard  work  will 
do  our  precious  boy  a  power  of  good," 
said  I  hopefully.  "Who  knows  but  it 
might  be  the  making  of  him." 

Drusilla  sighed. 

"  I  rather  like  the  way  Georgie 's 
made,"  she  murmured.  "  But  perhaps  you 
are  right." 

265 


"Georgie" 

"  Of  course  I  'm  right,"  said  I. 

We  are  told  that  adversity  shows  up 
our  friends  in  their  true  colors,  and  cer- 
tainly Georgie 's  disasters  bore  strange 
fruit. 

It  was  whilst  I  was  very  busy  with  the  last 
proofs  of  my  "The  Lost  Columbine "  that 
my  sister-in-law  came  into  my  study  for  a 
strictly  private  interview,  and  I  studied 
her  agitated  face  with  much  surprise.  I 
was  at  a  loss  to  understand  such  a  radiant 
excitement  in  Anne.  We  still  disliked  each 
other  considerably. 

She  sat  down  in  the  chair  opposite  to 
me  and  leaned  her  elbows  on  my  table. 

"Martin,"  she  began  in  her  quiet  voice, 
"  I  want  you  to  help  me  in  something.  I 
know  you  don't  like  me,  and  perhaps  you 
don't  quite  understand  me,  but  you  are  the 
only  person  I  can  come  to  now." 

I  was  very  much  surprised. 

"  My  dear  girl,"  said  I,  with  an  effort  to 
be  affectionate  and  polite.     "I  shall  be  de- 
lighted to  do  anything  for  you,  of  course. 
But  what  can  I  do  ?  " 
266 


When  the  Girls  Came  Out 

She  played  nervously  with  an  inky 
ruler. 

"A  long  time  ago,"  said  she,  "when  I 
was  first  engaged  to  Georgie,  you  kindly 
and  candidly  showed  me  that  I  was  going 
to  spoil  his  life.  You  brought  poor  Mr. 
Muggeridge  here  to  divert  my  affections, 
and  free  poor  Georgie  from  my  snares.  It 
was  partly  your  fault  that  Georgie  broke 
off  from  me  under  a  misconception,  was  n't 
it  ?  But  perhaps  you  have  forgotten." 

I  was  conscious  of  a  sudden  reddening, 
and  moved  uncomfortably  in  my  chair.  It 
was  not  like  peaceable  Anne  to  begin 
such  an  unpleasant  discussion. 

"  I  suppose,"  she  went  on  softly,  "that 
you  were  surprised  when  I  refused  your 
friend.  I  don't  think  you  quite  realized 
that  I  happened,  unfortunately  for  myself, 
to  be  fond  of  Georgie." 

I  was  silent ;  perhaps  a  little  ashamed 
into  the  bargain. 

"When  Mr.  Muggeridge  died  and  I 
found  he  had  left  me  all  that  money,"  she 
went  on,  "I  was  surprised.  But  I  was 
267 


"Georgie" 

very  glad,  of  course,  because  I  'm  tired  of 
being  poor.  One  does  get  tired  of  it.  The 
pleasure  of  being  careful  always  about  very 
little  things  palls  in  time,  don't  you  find  ? 
Now,  Georgie  is  poor  and  Diana  Leigh 
has  thrown  him  over,  and  I  believe — I  'm 
almost  certain,  Martin,  that  he — that  he 
likes  me  still." 

"  What !   Georgie  ?  "  I  asked  in  amazed 
and  unflattering  disbelief. 

"  You  are  cruel."  Her  tone  almost 
moved  me  to  pity.  "He  was  in  love  with 
Diana,  but  he  has  been  in  love  with  other 
girls,  has  n't  he,  and  he  always  gets  over 
that,  doesn't  he?"  Don't  you  think, 
Martin,  that  the  quiet,  steady  affection 
which  comes  from  sympathy,  and  friend- 
ship, and  understanding,  is  a  better  thing 
to  build  a  home  and  one's  happiness  on, 
then  these  wild,  short  love- fancies  of 
Georgie's  ?  " 

Still  I  had  no  response  ready.   My  feel- 
ing of  compassion  grew  stronger. 

"  I  am  rich,  Martin.   I  've  more  money 
than  poor  Georgie  has  lost.     And  I  can't 
268 


When  the  Girls  Came  Out 

tell  him.  I  thought — Georgie  always 
comes  to  you  for  advice,  does  n't  he  ?  I 
thought  perhaps  when  he  did  come,  you 
might  point  out  to  him,  point  out  to  him — " 

Her  steady  voice  faltered. 

"  Yes  ?  "  said  I  gravely. 

"  That  it  might  be  the  wisest  thing  he 
could  do  for  his  mother's  sake  and  his  own. 
Martin,"  her  earnest  voice  touched  me, 
"  we  all  love  Georgie.  Everybody  does. 
He  is  so  young  and  kind  and  strong.  He 
is  a  kind  of  Prince  Charming,  you  see,  and 
one  can't  help  wanting  him  to  be  happy. 
I  used  to  lecture  him,  and  try  to  influ- 
ence his  mind,  but  I  don't  want  to  do  any 
stupid  thing  like  that,  now.  I  only  want — " 
She  stopped  with  a  choking  sound. 

This  from  Anne  1 

"  I  will  put  the  case  to  Georgie,"  said  I 
gently,  and  held  out  my  hand  to  her  across 
the  table.  "Very  strongly."  Perhaps  it 
was  not  quite  the  first  time  that  I  had 
felt  my  old  opinion  of  her  shaken,  but  it 
was  certainly  the  first  time  I  had  wanted 
to  help  her  to  her  ends.  Anne's  brown 

17  269 


"Georgie" 

eyes  were  not  calculating  now ;  they  were 
wet. 

"  Thank  you,  Martin."  She  said  no 
more  and  presently  she  left  me.  That  very 
night  I  went  to  find  Georgie ;  to  give  my 
advice  with  the  utmost  diplomacy  and  tact. 
But  I  might  have  saved  the  breath  I  spent 
on  it. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Georgie  loftily.  It 's 
the  kind  of  thing  a  man  does  n't  do.  I 
broke  off"  with  Anne  when  she  was  poor 
and  I  was  rich.  I  'm  not  going  back  to 
whine  at  her  feet  now  the  tables  are  turned. 
Besides,  I  don't  approve  of  her  ways.  You 
know  what  I  told  you  of  Peterkin  ?  It 's 
any  means  to  an  end,  with  Anne." 

"  Suppose  she  is  still  fond  of  you  ?  "  I 
ventured  mildly. 

"  She  '11  have  to  get  over  it  then.  It 's 
time  she  did.  Hang  it  all,  Martin,  a  chap 
can't  marry  all  the  girls  who  're  fond  of 
him.  It  isn't  allowed  in  a  Christian 
country." 

The  conceited  brutality  of  this  was  too 
much  for  me  and  I  went  away.  Of  course 
270 


When  the  Girls  Came  Out 

I   did  n't  betray  Anne  to  him,  but  I  told 
Drusilla. 

She  received  my  news  with  a  sigh. 

"  Poor  Anne,"  said  she,  "of  course  she 
loves  him.  You  never  understood  that,  but 
I  knew.  And  of  course  Georgie  won't  hear 
of  her  now.  Do  you  know  ?  "  She  blushed 
a  little.  "  I  don't  believe  Georgie  ever 
really  cared  for  any  of  these  girls  in  the 
right  way." 

"  You  think  he  was  driven  to  propose  to 
them  all  in  the  last  recklessness  of  despair 
when  he  lost  you  ? "  I  asked  gravely, 
knowing  very  well  that  this  was  exactly 
what  she  did  think. 

She  leaned  over  her  boy,  sleepy  and 
rosy  in  his  crib,  and  carefully  covered  an 
out-flung  arm. 

"Matthew  Arnold,"  she  said,  "when 
you  're  a  man  you  '11  pay  your  daddy  out, 
for  all  these  jeers  at  your  sainted  Mammy, 
won't  you  ?  " 

UNTIL  "  The    Lost  Columbine "  was   off 

my   hands  I    saw   little  of  Georgie,  and 

271 


«  Georgia" 

although  I  did  n't  mean  to  be  selfish  I  am 
afraid  I  thought  still  less  of  him.  But 
he  rooted  me  out  one  evening,  and  I  saw 
by  his  face  that  something  fresh  had 
happened.  His  expression  was  one  of 
triumph  and  resigned  misery.  His  mouth 
was  firm.  There  was  a  wonderful  amount 
of  strength  in  Georgie's  mouth  in  spite  of 
its  girlish  size  and  shape. 

"  I  have  had  a  letter  from  Diana,"  said 
he.  "  You  can  read  it  if  you  like." 

"  If  you  are  to  give  each  other  up,"  said 
I  slowly,  "would  n't  it  be  better  for  both 
of  you  if  there  were  no  letters  ?  " 

He  handed  it  to  me. 

"  I  should  like  you  to  read  it,''  said  he. 
"  Then  you  can  see  just  what  I  am  giving 
up." 

"  But —  is  it  fair  to  hert  " 

"  See  what  you  think  of  it !  "  curtly. 

MY  DEAR,  DEAR  BOY, 

If  I  am  to  honor  my  parents  I  must  obey  them 
and  give  you  up.     There  would  be  no  blessing 
from    above  on  the  disobedient  act  of  an    un- 
272 


When  the  Girls  Came  Out 

dutiful  child,  and  I  must  tread  the  thorny  path 
alone  and  bear  my  sorrow  as  a  holy  cross. 
[Here  there  was  a  blot  and  a  large  splash.  A 
tear  ?]  I  've  been  thinking  it  over  and  it  seems 
to  me  that  love  is  the  most  holy  thing  of  all,  and 
rather  than  be  cruel  and  mercenary  and  break 
your  heart,  I  think,  oh,  Georgie,  I  '11  cut  the 
whole  show  and  do  anything  you  ask  me  to  do. 
Write  to  me,  Georgie — I  want  to  do  my 
Christian  duty,  but  perhaps  if  I  owe  a  duty  to 
you  as  well  I  may  be  forgiven. 

Your  heartbroken  and  always  true, 

DIANA. 

I  was  very  much  touched,  but  I  smiled 
in  spite  of  it.  Her  letter  was  so  very  like 
her  conversation.  Also  it  bore  out  Dru- 
silla  's  prophecy. 

"  Poor  little  girl !  "  murmured  I.  "  What 
are  you  going  to  say  to  her,  Georgie? 
Shall  you  encourage  her  to  cut  the 
show  ?  " 

He  lifted  his  head  and  met  my  gaze  with 
clear,  stern  blue  eyes. 

"Can't  you  see?"  said  he. 

"See  what?" 

273 


"Georgie" 

"  I  worshipped  that  girl  for  her  good- 
ness, and  now  she 's  ready  to  chuck  her 
principles  and  obedience  and  everything 
else  she  thinks  sacred  to  the  winds.  She  'd 
bolt  with  me  to-morrow  if  I  whistled  to 
her.  She  is  n't  a  bit  better  than  anybody 
else  when  she  wants  a  thing  badly.  When 
I  think  of  the  way  she  used  to  preach  about 
honor.  Ugh  !  " 

"  Georgie !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Georgie.  "  I  'm  sorry  for 
her,  but  I  am  disappointed  in  her  too,  and 
I  shall  show  her  that  a  man's  idea  of  honor 
is  n't  a  woman's.  I  wrote  her  a  kind,  un- 
selfish letter.  I  put  myself  entirely  on  one 
side.  I  told  her  that  she  must  forget  me  at 
once,  and  that  I  should  never  be  quite  easy 
in  my  mind  until  I  saw  her  happily  married 
to  someone  else.  I  told  her  she  must  put 
me  out  of  her  thoughts  altogether  if  she 
wanted  me  to  be  happy.  I  don't  mean  to 
spoil  her  life.  I  'm  not  a  selfish  beast." 

"  And  so  that 's  your  idea  of  an  unselfish 
letter,  is  it  ?  "  said  I  slowly.     "  I  suppose  it 
will  cheer  her  up  immensely." 
2/4 


When  the  Girls  Came  Out 

He  looked  puzzled,  and  I  hastily  went 
on. 

"  She  will  have  to  get  over  it,  I  suppose 
— like  Anne.  As  you  say,  Georgie, 
you  can't  marry  all  these  girls  and  per- 
haps—  " 

"Who  the  devil's  that?"  Georgie, 
facing  my  study  window,  broke  out  with 
an  amazed  stare.  Something  in  bright 
and  beautiful  summer  colors  had  drifted 
past,  framed  for  one  brief  second  against 
the  green  of  the  beech  tree. 

Voices  in  the  hall.  Not  Drusilla's,  for 
she,  of  course,  was  out  with  Matthew 
Arnold.  A  tap  at  my  study  door !  then 
someone  flung  it  widely  open  to  disclose 
a  radiant  vision ;  softly  rustling,  delicately 
and  faintly  perfumed,  and  gowned  in  ex- 
quisite primrose  color,  her  glowing,  charm- 
ing face  dazzling  us  from  a  wonderful 
white  hat,  tied  with  fresh  filmy  strings 
under  her  delightful  chin  !  Of  all  people 
in  the  world,  the  Goddess  Girl! 

"  Oh,  Georgie  !  "  she  cried,  with  afresh 
ripple  of  a  laugh.   "  I  've  come  back !  " 
275 


"Georgie" 

/  was  not  there  apparently. 

Georgie  stood  hesitating,  flushing,  and 
— could  it  be  ?  — annoyed. 

"  Oh,  is  it  all  true  ?  "  asked  the  Goddess 
Girl  delightfully.  "  Do  tell !  " 

"  Is  what  true  ?  "  he  asked  sternly. 

She  came  further  into  the  room  and 
laid  her  useless  and  expensive  parasol  on 
a  chair. 

"  Say,  Georgie,"  murmured  she.  "  Have 
you  really  run  away  from  the  little  Leigh 
girl  ?  " 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  don't  quite  understand 
you."  The  blood  mounted  quickly  to  his 
forehead. 

"  Why,  I  heard  there  was  a  little  rift  in 
the  psalm-singing  lute,"  said  she.  "  Is  that 
true,  Georgie  ?  Are  you  free  ?  " 

"  My  engagement  to  Miss  Leigh  is  at 
an  end,"  said  Georgie  impressively. 
"  Though  I  fail  to  see—" 

The  eyes  of  the  Goddess  Girl  lit  up  and 
she  held  out  her  pretty  hand  to  him. 

"  My  !  Georgie !  "  she  said.  "  I  'm  afraid 
you  're  a  vurry  disgraceful  boy.  I  guess 
276 


When  the  Girls  Came  Out 

you  lick  creation,  with  these  rapid  engage- 
ments of  yours.  I  heard  that  you  'd  lost 
your  money.  Is  that  true,  too?  Do  tell." 

"That's  true,  too,"  said  Georgie. 

She  laughed. 

"  Then  I  guess  I  '11  have  to  ask  you  to 
see  me  home,"  with  a  sly  and  most  bewitch- 
ing smile. 

Georgie  flushed.  "  I  am  afraid  I  must 
beg  you  to  excuse  me,"  he  answered 
firmly.  I  don't  know  how  he  could. 

Phillida  gave  a  little  gasp — then  laughed 
nervously.  Obviously  she  saw  that  this 
was  no  moment  for  maidenly  reticence. 

"  I  guess  I  '11  have  to  take  you  back 
myself,"  said  she  quickly.  "  I  guess  you  '11 
have  to  help  me  to  spend  all  those  dollars. 
There  's  too  much  for  one  bit  of  a  gurl  to 
spend.  And  I  do  my  vurry  best." 

I  regarded  the  summery  delicacy  of  her 
lovely  gown,  and  felt  that  here  she  did 
indeed  speak  the  truth.  But  Georgie  edged 
away  from  her  towards  the  window. 

"It's  very  noble  of  you,"  he  said  hur- 
riedly, "  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  but  it 's 
277 


"Georgie" 

quite  impossible.  I  could  n't  marry  a  rich 
girl  now." 

The  Goddess  Girl's  sapphire  eyes  blazed 
with  horror  and  bewilderment.  I  was  not 
surprised — but  then  neither  did  Georgie's 
attitude  surprise  me. 

"  You  see,"  said  he,  "  I  can't  marry  now 
at  all.  And  I  'm  very  sorry,  Phillida,  but 
you  did  give  me  up  yourself,  did  n't  you  ? 
I  am  sure  if  you  think  it  over  calmly, 
you  '11  find  that  you  still  like  the  Yankee 
kind  of  husband  best." 

Phillida  collapsed  suddenly  on  to  a 
chair,  and  I  could  see  her  lips  tremble. 
I  tried  to  slip  out  of  the  room,  but 
Georgie  stopped  me  with  a  quick  gesture 
of  appeal. 

"  I  guess  I  'd  better  make  tracks,"  said 
the  poor  Goddess  Girl  with  limp  despair. 

"  Yes,"  said  Georgie  grimly,  "  and  thank 
you  very  much  for  your — kind  charity." 

She  rose  without  a  word  and  left  the 

room.     I  followed  her  meekly,  and  at  the 

hall  door  she  turned  her  charming  face  to 

me,   with  pleading  eyes  ; — eyes  as    full  of 

278 


When  the  Girls  Came  Out 

tears  as  Anne's  had  been,  and  oh,  so  much 
more  beautiful. 

"Say,"  she  whispered  with  a  sob, 
"  you  're  his  friend.  I  guess  you  can  see 
that  Georgie  's  throwing  away  a  real 
good  thing  ?  " 

"I  can,  indeed,"  said  I  with  heartfelt 
fervor,  but  she  passed  this  by. 

"  Georgie  does  n't  know  the  first  thing 
about  real  love,"  she  said.  "  He  cayn't 
see  why  I  came  back.  I  just  worship  that 
boy.  I  guess  he 's  tired  of  his  little  Puri- 
tan by  now.  And  I  cayn't  do  without 
him.  I  've  never  had  to  do  without  any- 
thing before,  and  it  hurts  some.  The 
thought  of  fever  sent  me  crazy  that  day  I 
went  away,  but  I  felt  meaner  'n  two  cents 
when  I  cooled  down  and  saw  what  a  fool 
I  'd  been.  I  guess  I  've  spoiled  my  eyes 
for  good  crying  over  Georgie  ever  since." 

I  was  silent,  and  she  laid  her  hand  on 
my  coat-sleeve. 

"  If  you  and  your  little  peach  of  a  wife 
talk  to  him  nicely,"  said  she,  "  he  might 
be  taught  to  see  what  he 's  throwing  away. 
279 


"Georgie" 

Won't  you  please  open  his  eyes  for  him  ? 
I  'm  going  'way  back  to  his  mother  right 
now." 

"I  assure  you,"  said  I  earnestly,  "that 
I  will  do  my  very  best  for  you — but  Geor- 
gie 's  a  bit  of  a  mule,  you  know.  He  has 
an  unnatural  tendency  to  go  strongly  in 
the  opposite  direction  at  times." 

"  That 's  so,"  said  she  dejectedly.  "  Then 
I  guess  you  'd  better  go  to  him  and 
blacken  my  character  considerable." 

We  parted.  She  to  float  sadly  and 
gracefully  down  the  garden  path ;  I,  back 
to  Georgie. 

"  Georgie,"  said  I,  with  my  usual  di- 
plomacy, "  it  was  a  forward  thing  for  that 
girl  to  do." 

Georgie  laughed  bitterly. 

"  Gone  off  a  bit  in  her  looks,  do  you 
think  ?  "  I  asked  cautiously. 

"  Rot !  "  said  Georgie. 

"  Seriously,"  said  I,  "she's  a  Goddess 
Girl,  and  she  loves  you,  Georgie." 

"  Oh,  shut  up  !  "  said  he  rudely. 
280 


When  the  Girls  Came  Out 

"  You  might  do  worse  than  think  it 
over,"  I  murmured  mildly. 

He  flung  himself  into  a  chair  and  scat- 
tered my  papers  with  his  manly  elbows. 

"These  women  will  drive  me  mad," 
said  he. 

"Take  a  reasonable  view  of  the  thing," 
said  I.  Make  a  judicious  choice.  Sit  on 
your  silly  pride.  If  you  love  a  girl  you 
won't  mind  being  called  a  fortune-hun- 
ter—" 

"  I  don't  love  any  of  'em  enough  for 
that,"  cried  he  with  some  force.  "  It 's 
getting  a  bit  too  sultry  for  me,  Martin. 
How  'd  you  like  it  if  all  the  girls  you  knew 
came  back  crying  over  you,  and  forgiving 
you  aH  your  sins,  because  you  'd  lost 
something.  Oh,  these  women  !  When  a 
chap 's  a  bit  worried  with  something  really 
important,  they  all  come  and  chuck  them- 
selves at  his  head.  As  if  you  could  fight 
the  world  any  better  with  a  silly  woman 
hanging  round  your  neck.  Blithering 
sentimental  rot ! " 

281 


"Georgie" 

"  Upon  my  word  !  "  His  sentiments 
appalled  me. 

"  Yes,"  said  he  firmly.  "I  've  done  with 
girls." 

AND  for  the  present  I  really  think  he  has, 
for  a  few  days  ago  I  had  a  letter  from 
him,  post-marked  Lisbon  and  written  from 
the  Royal  Mail  steamer  "  Danube."  Here 
it  is: 

DEAR  MARTIN, 

I  am  going  out  to  the  Argentine,  ranching, 
and  may  come  in  for  a  revolution  with  a  bit 
of  luck.  No  one  knows  yet  but  my  mother, 
and  she  quite  sees  with  me  that  it 's  the  only 
decent,  manly  kind  of  life  for  a  chap  who  is  n't 
in  the  Army.  She's  coming  out  to  me  later 
on,  she  says,  to  make  butter  and  cheese  and 
things.  There  's  no  one  like  my  mother  when 
it  comes  to  real  practical  good  sense. 

I  was  sorry  not  to  say  good-bye  to  Drusie 
and  the  little  chap,  but  I  felt  it  better  to  keep 
my  plans  quite  dark  till  we  get  safely  out  of 
the  river. 

Good-bye,  old  boy.  Thanks  for  all  your 
282 


When  the    Girls  Came  Out 

good  advice.  I  don't  believe  I  ever  took  any 
of  it,  and  perhaps  it 's  as  well,  but  you  '11  wish 
me  luck,  won't  you  ? 

Always  yours, 

GEORGIE. 

P.S.     You  might  slip  round  and  break  it  to 
the  girls. 


THE  END. 


283 


DC  SOUTHERN  REuK 


A    000  036  226    9 


